


A Galaxy Not Their Own

by Brightbear



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin/Obi-Wan preslash (if you squint), F/M, New Republic Setting, Prequel Characters, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:30:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 48,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brightbear/pseuds/Brightbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cry for help summons Padawans Anakin and Obi-Wan, and their Masters Qui-Gon and older Obi-Wan to the future. Stranded in an unfamiliar galaxy, they struggle with each other almost as much as the mission given to them by the New Republic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Praxar

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the movies and some minor EU references. Have not been able to find a Beta for this yet, so all mistakes are my own - any feedback would be appreciated. Disclaimer: Most of the Star Wars universe belongs originally to George Lucas and Twentieth Century Fox, and now to Disney. This author uses these works without permission and for non-profit purposes.

_a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away..._

Praxar felt a presence in the Force. It was some time before the thought coalesced into her consciousness. The presence was moving towards her, vibrant and alive. The lingering spirits of the Sith had dedicated a good deal of their time to keeping any living creature away from the dark tunnel which Praxar’s spirit inhabited. Once, a small lizard had managed to slip past the Sith’s malevolent guard and Praxar had felt nearly overwhelmed at the sheer life in the precious little creature. If she’d still had a physical body, Praxar would surely have started keening from the rawness of it.

Praxar waited, her mind awakening as a sentient being approached for the first time in centuries. An old instinct surfaced and Praxar tried to flutter her wings in anticipation before once again remembering that her body had long since been absorbed into the oneness of the Force. It had been a lonely transition, stranded behind enemy lines in a war she’d long ago forgotten the reason for. The mines of this planet had reminded her of the tunnels of her home world and it had been oddly comfortable to take her last breaths here. The urge to release her hold on existence and let her consciousness be absorbed completely into the Force came and went in waves. She promised herself that she would do so when the Sith spirits that restlessly haunted the mine also let go. As long as they lingered, she felt duty-bound to keep their ill intent to a minimum.

The sentient being stumbled into Praxar’s tunnel itself, a human woman in ripped clothing and an old miner’s helmet. If the lizard had nearly overwhelmed Praxar, then the woman’s mere presence was a supernova to the eyes she no longer had. This was not only a living creature, but one who was powerful in the Force. Such a woman would have made a powerful Jedi, if the Jedi Order had continued to exist in Praxar’s absence.

It was clear that the woman sensed Praxar’s presence, her gaze wide-eyed in the feeble light of the miners’ helmet. The woman stumbled forward, arms outstretched and searching along the wall. The woman’s bare fingertips brushed against the crystalline gems that had formed where Praxar’s body had disappeared. Praxar felt surprise as the woman’s mind touched hers through the gems. The touch between them was confusing, Praxar struggling to make sense of a human mind. The woman was Praxar, Praxar was Leia. Praxar reordered her thoughts to make sense of it. Praxar was Praxar and the woman was Leia. Leia was untrained in the ways of the Force but powerful and brave, and clearly a creature of importance to her hive. She had fled into the mine to escape a dispute between hives, only to encounter the Sith.

Praxar channeled energy into Leia, feeling the woman’s exhaustion ease. They remained like that until Leia removed her hand from the gems, abruptly cutting off most of the sensation. Leia looked more at ease, though she still glanced at the tunnel around her in puzzlement. Her gaze was eventually drawn back to the gems; glittering blue, purple, and then flushing green.

The helmet light flickered and began to die. Leia slipped the helmet off her head and began to examine the wiring by the light of the gems. Praxar was so absorbed in watching and feeling Leia’s presence, that she did not immediately take note of the Sith’s approach. The Sith had approached Praxar many times over the years but had long ago lost the ability to hurt her. Leia, however, still had a body that could be damaged. Praxar tried to communicate the warning to Leia but the woman did not react. Praxar channeled her alarm into the gems and Leia finally looked up as the tunnel was bathed in red pulsing light. Disturbed, Leia put the helmet back on her head.

One of the Sith spirits materialized at the end of Praxar’s tunnel. Praxar knew that this Sith must have once had a name but its identity had eroded long ago, becoming little more than a nebulous grey mist with malevolent intent. Emitting a bleached grey light of its own, it coasted almost absently down the tunnel towards Leia. Praxar extended her thoughts down the tunnel to meet it and the Sith stopped, its limited mind confused by the blockage. At the other end of the tunnel a second Sith appeared, this one more coherent and aiming for Leia without hesitation. Praxar stretched her thoughts down to meet it. The second Sith pushed against her for a moment before also coming to a complete stop. The gems in the tunnel flashed gold with Praxar’s triumph.

Leia stood in the tunnel, her breath frosting in the coldness of the Sith. Wide-eyed, Leia looked from one Sith to the other. It was not clear how much of her situation she understood but Praxar could sense the beginnings of fear. Praxar caught the edge of a thought “...Jedi...” but had no energy to pursue the rest of the woman’s mind while still holding the Sith at bay. A third and fourth Sith appeared at the end of the tunnel and Praxar felt her triumph sink to despair. They pushed at the edge of Praxar’s thoughts, edging closer and closer to Leia. Leia backed away, crouching against the gems to take shelter in what little warmth they offered. The temperature in the tunnel began to drop and Leia’s fear spiked.

Praxar forced her scattered thoughts to focus. She was needed.  
“Luke?” Leia whimpered, shuddering and wretched.  
“Luke,” she repeated, her voice growing stronger. “Luke, please.”  
Praxar could feel the woman calling through the Force and she followed the call with a tendril of her mind. By the time the call had left the solar system, a fifth Sith had appeared and Praxar gave up, bringing the tendril back to the tunnel. Any help that was that far away would take too long to arrive.

Praxar still held the Sith away from making contact but they had already begun to affect the human woman. Leia’s thoughts became more confused as the Sith tried to influence her with their thoughts.  
“Obi-Wan Kenobi.”  
It was difficult to be sure if the name was spoken out-loud or had merely crossed Leia’s mind. Praxar reached into the Force, searching for anything that responded to the name. She found it, far back in time, and fed the embers she found. It was a long way but Praxar reached for it, feeling the weight and length of the identity she sought. She picked a place in its history and struggled to give it form. 

_A twenty-five year old Jedi Padawan struggled out of his robe with clumsy fingers. The robe slipped from his fingers and his knees buckled, his head swimming. He was caught before he hit the ground in a pair of large, familiar arms. He knew it must have been Qui-Gon that caught him but he found he was too tired to open his eyes and look._

She gave part of herself to the name and it coalesced to become more than a name. It became a life and edged ever closer to a corporeal entity, the echo of a human male. Satisfied but tired, she slowly drew it to the tunnel until it snagged, dragging a greater weight with it than expected. Another identity had attached itself to the first and was functioning as an anchor. Praxar released both of them and they hovered in the tunnel on the edge of existence.

Pushing against Praxar’s weakened thoughts, the Sith advanced further. One was reaching out ghostly tendrils towards Leia’s skin. Leia pulled away, the desperate thought arcing across her thoughts. _Father._ The Sith touched her and she stiffened as if plunged into ice-cold water. Praxar latched onto the thought and dove once more into the Force. She withdrew herself from the gems, feeling the crystalline structure collapsing as she demanded the energy necessary to complete her task. The thought led her back into the past. This thread twisted and turned, see-sawing backwards and forwards like a lightning strike. Praxar picked a point and poured her energy into it. 

_Another young Padawan felt the scowl on his face fade as dizziness overtook him. His steps faltered and he stretched out with one hand. He knew Master Obi-Wan had been standing less than a foot away from him and he succeeded in catching a handful of tunic. He could hear Obi-Wan calling his name in concern but the sound was getting further and further away._

The identity filled and solidified, spinning erratically towards an existence in the tunnel. Again, it snagged as another identity clutched at it and was dragged in its wake.

Frustrated, Praxar seized both of the joined entities she had created. She forced the last of her energy into them, her last act to demand that they arrive where she intended. She no longer had the energy to compel them but they responded of their own volition, close enough to feel Leia’s desperation themselves. As the last wisps of Praxar’s consciousness began to fade into the sameness of the Force, her last thought was one of surprise. She had only intended to create two.


	2. Anakin

Anakin could hear the sound of his Master calling his name. It was echoing around inside his skull. His skin was tingling all over and supersensitive to the light touch of his clothes. Everything smelled musty and stale. He risked opening his eyes and his eyeballs burned like they'd been sand-papered. His vision was blurry for a moment before it cleared to reveal a wall of brown rock, visible by a light flickering off to the side somewhere. When Anakin rolled, he saw that the roof was brown rock as well and that he was lying in a tunnel. Old steel beams set into the wall indicated that it was likely a mine.

A face appeared above him, only dimly lit and half familiar.  
"Padme?"  
The woman frowned, fidgeting with the miner's helmet in her hand. She glanced behind her down the tunnel.  
"It's Leia."  
"Okay, Leia," said Anakin, struggling to sit up with her help. "Where are we?"  
"A mine."  
"No, I mean... this isn't Coruscant, right?"

Leia didn't seem to be listening. As she turned to look down the tunnel again, Anakin caught sight of Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was sprawled on his front but had raised his head to peer blearily at them.  
"You need to get up. All of you," warned Leia urgently. "They've backed off but they could come back."  
"Who's coming back?" asked Anakin, climbing to stand on unsteady legs.  
"The Sith," said Leia. "Of some kind..."  
Leia edged down towards the end of the tunnel. Anakin scowled and reached for his lightsaber. He had glimpsed a Sith once, when he was nine. It had ended with a funeral pyre for the first Jedi Anakin had ever met - Qui Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan climbed to his feet as well, wobbling a moment but staying upright.

"The Sith haven't been seen in a thousand years," said a raspy voice.  
The sound of that voice did strange things to Anakin's insides, his stomach doing acrobatic flips. He wasn't the only one - Obi-Wan had frozen in place, tension in every muscle and jaw clenched tightly shut. Obi-Wan's hand was white knuckled on the hilt of his unlit lightsaber. Only his eyes, wide and liquid blue, moved. His gaze darted from side to side without any attempt to actually turn his head and see behind him. He looked back to Anakin, a form of wordless plea.

With a deep breath, Anakin looked over Obi-Wan's shoulder to get a closer look at the person who'd spoken. It was Qui-Gon Jinn, looking back with polite confusion.  
"Um...," said Anakin eloquently.  
Qui-Gon raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Anakin. It was the same warm confidence and compassionate face that Anakin had seen as a child. It seemed far too substantial and detailed to be a mere hologram.  
"Well..." Anakin tried again. "Not to be rude, but aren't you dead?"

There was an undignified squeak of protest. At first Anakin thought it might have been his master having some kind of stroke and then Anakin turned around to see steely blue eyes and a padawan braid. Anakin might have let out a squeak of his own. Standing in front of him was a sort of mirror-image of Obi-Wan - albeit ten years younger and clean-shaven. It was how Obi-Wan had looked when he and Anakin had first met. Obi-Wan even had the cleft in his chin that had been hidden beneath the beard for years.

"What do you mean, dead!" demanded the young Obi-Wan.  
Anakin knew his mouth was hanging open. He turned around to look at the older Obi-Wan, who hadn't moved but was eyeing his strange double. Anakin looked back at the younger Obi-Wan, who was waiting impatiently.  
"Well?" insisted young Obi-Wan, acidly.  
Anakin shut his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, the young Obi-Wan was still there.

"Look out!" shouted Leia.  
Anakin looked towards Leia, only to realise she was pointing behind him. He ignited his lightsaber as he pivoted. A dark mist had filled the tunnel while they'd been talking and had reached a tendril out to Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon raised a hand, the tendril floating underneath his arm and touching his chest. Qui-Gon sucked in a pained gasp and curled in on himself, his lightsaber falling from shaking fingers. Anakin and the young Obi-Wan hadn't taken their first steps when the older Obi-Wan snapped out of his shocked freeze. His blue weapon blazing, he swung his lightsaber between Qui-Gon and the centre of the mist. There was no impact with anything solid but the mist seemed to catch on the edge of the lightsaber as if it was a net or web. The mist floundered into small, unfocused eddies and Qui-Gon staggered behind Obi-Wan's protection. The younger Obi-Wan stepped in hurriedly to sling Qui-Gon's shaking arm over his shoulder.

"We need to move," said Leia. "There are more of them out there."  
She strapped the miners helmet onto her head, casting its intermittent light down the tunnel behind them.  
"No argument here," said the older Obi-Wan, holding his lightsaber at the ready and eyeing the mist warily.  
The mist had stopped just in front of him, unwilling to advance for the moment.  
"Any... direction... you recommend?" panted Qui-Gon.  
The younger Obi-Wan called Qui-Gon's dropped lightsaber to his outstretched hand. Anakin caught a brief glimpse of Qui-Gon's grateful smile.

Then Leia was clutching Anakin's sleeve and pointing. From the opposite direction, two mists had seeped into the tunnel. Anakin faced them warily.  
"Definitely not this way," said Leia, stepping quickly behind Anakin. "Better odds against just one."  
"Well then," said the older Obi-Wan. "Let's not wait around then."  
The older Obi-Wan charged at the mist but it didn't wait to meet him. The mist folded back in on itself, twisting and swirling to avoid the oncoming lightsaber. The whole group raced down the tunnel at his back, Anakin carefully watching their rear.

The fleeing mist squeezed through a hole in the ceiling and disappeared. The group didn't slow - the older Obi-Wan leading the way, the younger Obi-Wan following with an arm still around Qui-Gon, Leia and her flickering light, and Anakin watching the mists recede behind them. As they raced along the air started to smell fresher and they could hear dripping water.  
"We're getting close to the river," said Leia. "We'll need to be careful. There were bombers racing overhead before."  
As if to bolster her warning, there was a dull thud and the tunnel floor shook beneath their feet.  
"As long as we don't get separated, we'll be fine," Anakin assured her.


	3. Emalda

Emalda watched from the cockpit as the cargo ship raced above the canopy of a purple rainforest. She clung to the seat in front of her, blinking at the alien crew around her. The co-pilot was a wookie, dark, towering and wild with one massive arm in a sling. His howling set her teeth on edge. The Captain was a human with a bleeding cut over his eye, a tendency to talk and the darkest hair colour that Emalda had ever seen. She'd heard rumors that humans had different hair colours, like black or so blond that it was white but she'd never really believed it. 

Emalda had run from the bombing without stopping to ask names. Only one had introduced himself - a human man with the sandy-coloured hair that was the only shade that Emalda was used to. Named Ben, he was friendly but his face had made her jump the first time she'd seen it. She'd wondered if he was half-wookie until she realised that the hair on his face was a beard. Emalda had never seen a beard before either and she kept wanting to ask him if it got in the way while he was eating.  
"I'm picking up cannon fire to the east," said the Captain.  
The Captain jabbed at a switch irritably and the wookie rumbled out some kind of observation.  
"You said it," said the Captain, his whole face twisting into a grin.

Ben wore a lightsabre on his belt, the innocuous looking weapon swaying side to side as he leaned forward in his seat to peer over the Captain's shoulder. It was another thing Emalda wanted to ask about.  
"Is it inside the city?" asked Ben.  
"No, just outside the city limits," said the Captain. "Nothing we have to worry about."  
"Are some of your... our people involved?"  
The wookie consulted the control panels before whuffling to the Captain.  
"I don't recognise it...," mused the Captain. "You?"  
The wookie shrugged and rumbled in the negative.  
"May I look?" asked Ben. "My apprentice... _borrowed_ a ship from Emalda here."  
"Sure, knock yourself out," said the Captain, waving an arm generously.

Emalda scooted forward, anxious for news, but the console was unfamiliar. She couldn't make any sense out of it and slid back into her seat disappointed. Ben frowned at the console before turning to look at Emalda. The round pupils in his eyes were unsettling but his expression was undeniably friendly.  
"The Ekash defensive towers are firing at a ship," he told Emalda. "Can you tell if it's yours?"  
She leaned forward again and followed Ben's pointing finger to a display she could actually read.  
"That's it," said Emalda. "That's the _Fahren_. What's happening?"  
"It's harassing the towers quite effectively," said Ben. "But it's taking heavy fire."  
"Got no back-up to speak of," said the Captain. "The nearest Squadron's at least two minutes away."  
"That sounds like my apprentice."

The wookie growled an opinion.  
"Yeah, that's what I was thinking," said the Captain. "We'll head over and see if we can give him a hand."  
The Captain and the wookie busied themselves with changing the ship's course. Ben glanced at Emalda and smiled reassuringly at her.  
"Ah hell," said the Captain sharply. "The ship's gone down."  
Ben raised out of his seat, "Any chance the pilot survived?"  
"Can't tell, it slammed straight into one of the towers."  
Emalda wanted to ask if the ship was alright but bit her tongue. Ben looked worried, his fingers clutching at the back of the pilot's seat.  
"It's taking a lot of fire from the ground forces. Wait, it's moving - just pulled clear of the rubble."

Ben sighed in relief. Emalda edged forward to try another look at the console. She could decipher the _Fahren's_ position, much closer than when she had last looked.  
"It's flying a little unsteady," said the Captain. "But it's headed out of the cannon range... no, it's veered back. Something's definitely not right."  
It sounded to Emalda as if the wookie lamented this turn of events at length.  
"What's your apprentice's name?" asked the Captain.  
"Anakin," said Ben.  
The Captain did a double-take, looking at Ben strangely, but he turned back to the controls.

"Fahren, this is the Millenium Falcon," said the Captain. "Captain Solo, speaking. Are you there, Anakin?"  
There was silence from the console. Ben's grip on the seat back tightened. It was a long moment before a weary voice responded.  
"Who?"  
"Captain Han Solo," repeated the Captain. "Can you make it clear of the cannons?"  
There was silence again.  
"Anakin?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Are you okay, buddy?"  
"I think... I hit my head."  
"Can you adjust your heading to the west by a few degrees?"  
"Yes."

There was a long moment before the _Fahren_ changed course, moving back out of the cannon's range.  
"Let's just hope he's not too out of it to land," said Captain Solo.  
"What's the atmosphere like at this altitude?" asked Ben. "Breathable?"  
"A little thinner than standard but perfectly breathable. I gotta tell you, though, I'm worried by the fact that you're asking."  
"If you can get alongside," said Ben. "I'll board and see what I can do."  
"In mid-flight? It's your funeral..."

Emalda spoke before she realized she'd made a decision.  
"I'm going with you," she said.  
All three of the others turned to look at her incredulously. The wookie's response was unintelligable but passionate.  
"Let's not get carried away," said the Captain, jerking a thumb in Ben's direction. "It's a crazy move for this guy and he's a Jedi Knight."  
"I can do it," said Emalda. "I'm a dancer, I've got great balance."  
The Captain laughed and shared an incredulous look with the wookie. Ben was looking at her thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side. Emalda couldn't have said why she was determined to do this - but while she didn't trust other people, she trusted her own feelings.  
"Very well, then," said Ben. "But it will be dangerous."  
"I know," said Emalda, trying to keep her tone even and not cocky or daring: responsible was the goal.

Ben nodded and stood, leading the way from the cockpit. Emalda stood still for a moment, expecting more of an argument, and then followed hurriedly. The grumbling of the Captain and the wookie behind her were cut off by the cockpit door closing. She followed Ben through the unfamiliar ship until he reached a service lift that would take them to the ship's exterior. It was a small circular platform that would be a tight fit for the both of them. Ben backed onto the platform, leaning against the far wall.  
"I'm going now," he said. "Are you coming?"  
"Yes," said Emalda, ignoring the hammering of her heart as she stepped up onto the platform beside him.  
They weren't quite touching but there was no room to move as the platform started to rise. There was a tug on Emalda's belt and she looked down to see Ben clipping a safety line to her.

"If you decide to stay," said Ben, handing her a headset. "The blue switch will lower the platform back down."  
"I won't..." began Emalda.  
Then the exterior hatch opened and the rest of her words were drowned out by the rushing of the wind. Her hair whipped around her face and she wondered why she hadn't thought to tie it up beforehand. Without a tether of his own, Ben lowered himself into a crouch. The wind ruffled not only the hair on his head but also his beard. Emalda might have laughed aloud but she couldn't hear herself to know for sure. Ben pulled on his own headset and squinted into the wind. Emalda followed his gaze and froze in amazement.

The _Millenium Falcon_ was flying over the Ekash jungle, a breathtaking view while stationary; let alone while roaring over at speed. She'd never seen it from this high before, it seemed to stretch out to the horizon itself. In the distance, a couple of large ats took flight on their leathery wings. Their three metre wingspans looked tiny from this distance. Her view of the ats was obscured as the _Millenium Falcon_ drew level with the _Fahren_. The _Fahren's_ normally silver exterior was marred with scarring and debris. Some of the gold and green trim was still visible as it danced up and down the wings but the intricate knots that had decorated the nose had been completely obscured.

Ben was already moving across the _Falcon_ in a crouch. When he was an arm's length from the edge he raised a hand to his headset. Emalda couldn't hear what he said but the _Falcon_ climbed slightly so that the edge nearest Ben was hovering just above and in front of one of the _Fahren's_ wings. Ben looked over at Emalda and smiled. Then he launched himself off the edge. He was just gone. Emalda might have screamed, she wasn't sure. She still couldn't hear anything.

Emalda took a step towards the edge where Ben had disappeared, not knowing what she intended to do. The world tilted precariously and she dropped to all fours. The wind was still roaring, the jungle still speeding past and Ben was gone. She edged forward and the tether pulled tight against her belt. She unclipped it. There was nothing now to save her from falling to her death and she lay flat on her stomach, wiggling forward like a worm and digging her fingers into any handhold the ship's surface offered. She crawled to within arms reach of the edge before she finally saw Ben edging up the _Fahren's_ wing beneath her. He was moving in a cautious but steady crouch, heading for a hatch on the _Fahren_. He stopped and waved at her, his concerned frown visible even from this distance.

Emalda looked down at the _Fahren's_ wing. It wasn't a long distance. She knew from a lifetime of pushing her body to the limits that she could easily jump three times the distance. It was just that normally if she failed a move, her peers laughed and she got a sick angry/guilty feeling in her stomach while she was reprimanded - she didn't fall to her death in the middle of a war zone surrounded by aliens whose names she didn't even know. She knew Ben's name, though. He had turned away from her and was trying to open the _Fahren's_ hatch. It was taking some time, probably because he was human. The _Fahren's_ access panels were labelled in the local dialect of Jalul, which not even all the Ekash were fluent in.

She fixed her eyes on a black scuff mark on the _Fahren's_ wingtip. She made it the centre of her focus. She didn't block out the endless movement and noise that surrounded her but she let it fade into the periphery.  
_Focus,_ she told herself. _Emalda Colash, you've got this._  
She didn't think, she let her body run through a leap and forward roll that she'd done countless times before the military had shut down the dance halls. She was starting to straighten up again to bow to an imaginary audience when her brain caught up with her actions. She laughed a little hysterically before pressing her body and face firmly into the _Fahren_ below her.

A hand gripped her wrist and she looked up to see Ben crouching next to her, looking... impressed? He waved at the hatch and Emalda obligingly slid forward to enter the unlocking code. Her muscles locked up at that point and Ben was the one to drag her inside the hatch, not letting go until they were inside and the roaring of the wind had fallen silent. He gave her a reassuring squeeze before striding off into the ship, smooth and graceful. 

Emalda followed when she felt able, her heart beating in her chest. From inside there didn't seem to be any damage to the _Fahren_ , other than a few indicator lights that were flashing. The cockpit door was open when she reached it, an Ekash in a military uniform sprawled in the doorway. His uniform was burned in a blackened line across his chest. She didn't want to look too close to see how deep the burn went. He wasn't breathing and he wasn't going to get up and hurt her, and that was all she needed to know.

She stepped across the body and into the cockpit. Ben was at the controls but it was clear that most of his attention was on the figure slumped unconscious in the pilot seat. Emalda joined Ben, sliding her fingers under his to take over the _Fahren_. Ben gave up the pilot seat and turned to the unconscious figure.  
"Anakin?" asked Ben gently, sliding a hand under the unconscious man's chin. "Can you hear me?"  
Anakin's eyes fluttered, and focused with effort on Ben's face.  
"Master Obi..." began Anakin.  
Ben hushed him, a finger against his lips.  
"It's Ben," said Ben. "If anybody asks, it's Ben. Understood?"  
Anakin's eyebrows drew together in confusion, his gaze flickering over Emalda before drifting back to Ben.  
"Understood," croaked Anakin.

Anakin's head rolled bonelessly on his neck before Ben steadied it again with a gentle hand.  
"How?" said Anakin. "How. When. How can we get home?"  
"I'm not sure yet," said Ben, his hands dropping to check Anakin for injuries.  
"Join the club," grumbled Emalda.  
She laid in a course away from the planet, towards the New Republic and a new life as a political refugee.


	4. Qui-Gon

Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn stood by the window, the landscape of Coruscant familiar enough to make the changes all the more disturbing. The capital of the New Republic was still the planet on which he had grown up but he’d missed more than four decades of its history, including a great deal of war and upheaval. There were new buildings where he looked for the familiar and old ones to jar him out of the new horizon. He still could not overcome the urge to scan for the silhouette of the Jedi Temple.

Below him a landing pad extended from the building, several people scurrying about to prepare the small spacecraft _Fahren_ for launch. The pace of life on Coruscant was one of the things that certainly hadn’t changed. Two young men in Jedi robes stood restlessly by the _Fahren_ , directing the workcrews and frequently breaking off to consult one another. As Qui-Gon watched, one of the young men gestured to the workcrews with his arm. He was Obi-Wan Kenobi and had been Qui-Gon’s apprentice since he was thirteen. At twenty-five, Obi-Wan was nearing the end of his apprenticeship; or had been before they had been transported through time. There was no Jedi Order in this future, let alone a High Council to award a Knighthood. Qui-Gon had no way of knowing what this meant for his apprentice’s future and he found the uncertainty unsettling.

Down below, Obi-Wan froze with his arm outstretched as his taller companion spoke up. His companion was Anakin Skywalker, an intense young apprentice with the potential to become more powerful than any other Jedi Qui-Gon had ever met. He was a cocky twenty year old but had a directness that Qui-Gon appreciated. Anakin had come from ten years into Qui-Gon’s future, which still meant he had experienced a jump of thirty-four years to arrive in the current time period. Obi-Wan dropped his arm and tilted his head to the side as he and Anakin discussed something intently. The workcrews paused at the halt in the flow of directions, exchanging glances. Qui-Gon smiled to himself as the workcrews moved as one to resume their duties, the two apprentices too distracted by their discussion to notice.

The door behind Qui-Gon slid open and he turned to see Leia Organa-Solo paused in the doorway. His smile was genuine as he recognised her. Less than half Qui-Gon’s age, she already possessed a formidable range of talents; war veteran, aristocrat, senator, ambassador, wife and mother. Qui-Gon had known her less than a month before she had been elected as the New Republic’s Chief of State. Once she had assumed her new duties, he had seen very little of her.  
“Master Jinn,” she said politely, inclining her head in greeting.  
She looked tired, dark circles marring the skin beneath her eyes.  
“Your Excellency,” he said, bowing. “We didn’t think you would find the time to see us off.”  
“I’m afraid I can’t,” she said, crossing into the room. “I only have a minute to spare from my schedule. C3-PO’s waiting outside to let me know when my time is up.”  
“Would you like me to call Anakin up?” asked Qui-Gon.  
Leia hesitated, folding her hands together in front of her.  
“No, there won’t be enough time,” said Leia. “We said our farewells earlier.”

Leia moved to stand beside him, looking down at the landing platform where Anakin and Obi-Wan had only just noticed that the workcrews had nearly finished prepping the Fahren for launch. They watched in silence for a moment as Obi-Wan and Anakin bent their heads close once again to decide what to do about the workcrews. Qui-Gon couldn’t help but notice that Leia’s gaze was drawn to Anakin, as it always was. Leia had been careful and considered in the information she had shared with them. She had told them some of the history they had missed, but had withheld other things from them. She had asked that they trust her judgement and Qui-Gon had complied. 

“Actually,” said Leia, her perfectly composed face at odds with the rising apprehension Qui-Gon sensed. “There was a matter I wanted to discuss with you before you leave.”  
She turned away from the window to face him, studying him carefully. Qui-Gon resisted the urge to prompt her. She pursed her lips and glanced out the window again before turning back to him.  
“I’m not sure I should mention this,” she said. “But I fear the consequences of not speaking of it just as much. When you leave on this mission, I won’t be there to advise you.”  
“You’re afraid we’ll damage the timeline?” asked Qui-Gon. “We have already been here a year and have been exposed to quite a bit of the future already, accidentally and deliberately. Is there anything you can tell us that we aren’t likely to find out ourselves, eventually?”

Leia smiled softly, “Not everything is general knowledge. We have kept some personal and private details from you.”  
“You must do what you think is right, of course,” said Qui-Gon evenly, beginning to feel the stirrings of curiosity.  
“I’m worried about the timeline and events that happened before,” said Leia. “I’m worried that if I say anything I may accidentally influence the situation and bring about the very thing I am attempting to avoid.”  
“This is starting to sound like quite the dilemma,” said Qui-Gon. “The only piece of advice I can offer is to trust your instincts.”  
Leia smiled, “That is why I have come to talk to you. I am... concerned for Anakin and his future as a Jedi.”  
“And you don’t want to talk to Anakin or Ben about this?”

Leia looked out the window, watching Anakin scowl as Obi-Wan joked with the workcrews. She reached out a hand towards the glass, as if to reach Anakin himself but jerked it back when she realised what she was doing.  
“Master Jinn,” she said. “I know that Anakin already has Ben for a Master but... He’s young and naïve. He would be... easily swayed by outside influences.”  
Leia’s voice had turned brittle and it was clear that she was tempted to say a lot more than she was. It was also clear that she was scared she had said too much.

Qui-Gon frowned and looked down to see Anakin smiling reluctantly at Obi-Wan. Anakin’s connection to the Force blazed and flowed effortlessly through his every action. Qui-Gon felt a shudder ran through him. He did not like to contemplate what kind of outside influences might find such a powerful apprentice useful.  
“I will do my best to watch out for him,” said Qui-Gon, laying a hand gently on Leia’s shoulder. “You have my word.”  
She released a breath and nodded. She stood a little taller, relaxing with the comfort of one who knows that at least one of her burdens has been relieved.  
“Thank you,” she said, resting her own hand on Qui-Gon’s shoulder. “And may the Force be with you. All of you.”  
“And also with you.”  
She inclined her head and departed, leaving Qui-Gon alone again at the window.

He watched with his arms folded as the rest of his party gathered by the Fahren. They had been offered a mission by the New Republic Senate and had accepted, primarily for the opportunity to leave Coruscant. Luke Skywalker had offered them a place at his new Jedi Academy but the suggestion had grated and Qui-Gon could not bring himself to accept it.

 _“There is another possibility,” Luke had said, an boyish eagerness lighting up in his normally serious face. “You would be welcome at the Jedi Academy.”_  
 _Qui-Gon could not help the laughter that burst from him, his mind freely supplying images of younglings crowding around his feet and tripping him over. His laughter died as he remembered that many of Luke’s students would not be Temple Initiates raised to the Jedi way since childhood. Instead they would be a motley collection of Force-sensitive adults, gathered together in the forlorn hope that they could recreate what had been destroyed so thoroughly by the Sith. Qui-Gon shuddered._  
 _“Train an entire Jedi Order?” Qui-Gon asked. “At this point, I'm questioning my own purpose. No, I would not be a good teacher and anyway, Obi-Wan must be my priority until he is knighted.”  
_ Luke had looked disappointed but not surprised at his decision. He had reluctantly agreed with Qui-Gon’s feeling that the time was not right. Qui-Gon had not voiced the thought that it might _never_ be the right time.

Qui-Gon turned away from the window and headed down to join his companions on the landing platform. He had very little idea of where they might eventually end up but the prospect of a mission and of being on the move again called to him. There was a transformed galaxy awaiting them and he had every intention of being up to the challenge.


	5. Anakin

Anakin stood on the landing pad, watching the techs prepare the _Fahren_ for launch. He could have done it himself but the techs had made it clear, without speaking, that his assistance wasn't needed. Instead, Anakin had taken a step backwards and enjoyed the moment. A light breeze was whistling between the buildings. The landing pad was bustling and busy, running to its own rhythm. It reminded him of the frantic pace of working in Watto's garage - life there had never been easy but there had been no shortage of broken machinery to occupy his little hands. Being in the middle of all the activity was more soothing than the most silent of meditation rooms that the Jedi Temple had to offer.  
"It's good to smell fresh air again," said Anakin. "Isn't it?"  
Beside him, a young Obi-Wan was grinning and leaning against the railing to watch the traffic flying past.  
"After eight months in quarantine, being anywhere feels fantastic," agreed Obi-Wan.  
"I was beginning to think they might never let us out," said Anakin.  
"Well," said Obi-Wan. "To be fair, I don't think they have to enforce a time travel quarantine that often."  
"That often?" snorted Anakin. "I think they had to write new legislation just to make it legal."  
"I think they were hoping if they locked us in for long enough, we'd just disappear of our own accord."

Anakin held out his hands and subjected them to a thorough examination.  
"No," said Anakin, finally. "Still here."  
Obi-Wan laughed, convincing Anakin that was all was okay with the world. After being confined together in close quarters for so long, Anakin was pleased to discover that they enjoyed each other's company. Young Obi-Wan had the same serious nature as the older Obi-Wan, but he was a little quicker to laugh or smile - and far less confident of his own abilities.

Obi-Wan's smile dimmed slightly as he glanced over Anakin's shoulder. Obi-Wan straightened from the position where he'd been lounging against the railing. Anakin didn't need to look to know that this meant one of the older Jedi was approaching. Anakin turned, recognising his own Master approaching. This was the Obi-Wan Kenobi that Anakin had known for half his life, who had trained him and raised him. He was nearly ten years older and a fully fledged Jedi knight. They had taken to calling this older Obi-Wan 'Ben'. To the rest of the galaxy, Ben and Obi-Wan were considered the descendents of a Jedi Master from the Clone Wars. Less than twenty people knew that all three were actually the same person, from different time periods.

The woman who would be the final member of their mission walked beside Ben, duffel bag over her shoulder and a green coat wrapped tightly around her body as if to ward off the cold. She was dressed for practicality, in plain clothes and sturdy boots. She wore no make-up but the edges of her fringe were braided, beaded, and tucked behind her ears. She was about five inches shorter than Ben, coming only up to his shoulder - all the more obvious as she walked so close to him that the two were almost touching. To the uninitiated, she could have been taken for a human woman like any other in the galaxy; the truth being that she was of a near-human species called the Ekash and a political refugee from her homeworld. Anakin and Obi-Wan had met her when they arrived but had not seen her in person during the long months of quarantine. Anakin thought she looked fitter and healthier than when he'd first seen her, though she still watched her surroundings with a nervous energy.

"Padawans," smiled Ben, inclining his head in greeting.  
"Master," responded Anakin warmly.  
Obi-Wan inclined his head formally, "Master Kenobi."  
Emalda came to an awkward stop beside Ben, most of her attention on the techs surrounding the ship.  
"Enjoying the fresh air?" asked Ben.  
"Making the most of it before we board the ship," said Anakin.  
"Coruscant and fresh air are not words often found together," said Obi-Wan dryly.  
Ben chuckled in amusement, "Some things never change."

"I take it the both of you remember Emalda Colash?" asked Ben, placing a careful hand on Emalda's shoulder.  
Emalda flinched at the casual touch before relaxing and turning a shy smile of apology on Ben. She took a deep breath before making eye-contact with Anakin and Obi-Wan.  
"Padawans," she said, bobbing her head sharply.  
"Miss Colash," said Obi-Wan.  
"Miss Colash," echoed Anakin. "How has the _Fahren_ been holding up while we've been... away?"  
Emalda's expression brightened.  
"I have been roughening out some of the edges," said Emalda. "But I haven't been able to fly it as much as I'd like."  
"That's a shame," said Anakin. "A ship like her shouldn't be grounded. It's just wrong."  
"She belongs in space," said Emalda. "I... haven't really had anywhere to take her."  
"Leia... I mean, Minister Organa-Solo, said that you were busy doing some administrative work for her office."  
Emalda snorted, probably the most natural response Anakin had ever seen her give.  
She stiffened up again, "I'm not really suited to administrative work."

Tightening her grip on her duffel bag, Emalda walked up the ramp into the _Fahren_. Anakin made as if to follow her but Ben put a restraining hand on his arm.  
"Give her a moment," said Ben. "She doesn't mean to be so abrupt."  
"Of course she doesn't," said Anakin. "She's still getting used to being around so many people."  
Ben looked impressed and released Anakin's arm. Anakin couldn't help returning the smile but still wondered why stating the obvious had triggered it.

"Have you had a chance to transfer your belongings onboard?" asked Ben.  
"Not yet, Master," said Anakin. "We were waiting for Miss Colash."  
"Well, we had best join her," said Ben. "There's no telling how long we'll be on board."  
"Have you seen Master Qui-Gon?" asked Obi-Wan.  
"I believe Leia needed to discuss something with him," said Ben. "He should be down shortly."  
Anakin followed Ben's gaze to see Qui-Gon watching them through a distant window. It could have been his imagination but he thought that Qui-Gon's stern gaze was focused on him. He shrugged away his discomfort to walk up the _Fahren's_ ramp side by side with Obi-Wan.


	6. Five Months Later

_It has been five months since the Jedi accepted a mission from the New Republic Senate to track down the missing Ekash weapons scientist Dr Rivea Colash. Dr Colash's daughter, Emalda, aids them in their search and has volunteered the use of her ship. The trail has led them outside of New Republic space, to the newly settled world of Wefhuk…_

Anakin was standing on the planet of Tattooine, the planet of his childhood. The winds were whipping the desert sands into a monstrous storm, which moved with a life of its own. The sand battered him in waves, but it didn't sting his skin as sharply as he remembered. With his hood up and his eyes half-open, he could see little as he shuffled across the desert. The wind shifted and through the haze an indistinct shape appeared on the horizon. As he walked towards it the shape solidified into a squat, weathered moisture farm. A line of stone stairs led down to a sheltered entranceway, below the level of the desert sands. Anakin walked down the steps, letting his hood fall back as the entranceway blocked the worst of the wind. The door slid open at his approach. Anakin considered this proof that he was dreaming, because nobody who had sand people for neighbours ever left their doors unlocked. He crossed the threshold tentatively and the door slid shut behind him. He walked on down the corridor, the noise of the storm outside muffled by the walls. Anakin couldn't hear the roar of the sand beating on the walls or the wind whistling across the roof. It was dead silent inside the farm.

Somebody started laughing, the sound bouncing and echoing around the small building. Anakin walked faster as he recognised the high, tinkling laughter of a woman. The corridor ended abruptly and Anakin stumbled ungracefully down the step into the living area. A woman stood in the centre of the wide room with her back to him. Her dark hair curled and cascaded down her back, contrasting sharply with her soft, white tunic. She was cradling a baby in her arms and singing softly. A moment of thought and Anakin recognized it as a Naboo lullaby.  
“Padme?”  
The woman raised her head and turned to look at him. For a moment, he thought he was right and that he had been reunited with the woman he hadn’t seen since he was nine years old. Then he recognized that it was Leia’s face that was watching him with an indulgent smile. Anakin tried not to look too disappointed but Leia must have seen because she sighed and shook her head at him. She looked down at the baby in her arms and turned away from him again.  
“Where are we?” Anakin asked her.

Leia turned back to him but it wasn’t Leia anymore. It was Anakin’s mother, Shmi Skywalker. She clasped her hands together in welcome, the baby gone. She crossed the floor towards him, long skirts sweeping the carpet. She looked younger than he remembered - radiant. Echoing Leia’s indulgent smile, his mother raised a hand to touch his cheek. Her touch was cold and dusty. Anakin had to look again at her hands to reassure himself that there was still flesh on them.  
“You don’t need to be here, Ani,” she said, her rich accent flowing over him. “You’re needed elsewhere.”  
Anakin just stared at her, trying not to flinch as her stale hand stroked his brow.  
“My handsome boy...” she whispered.  
She seemed to catch herself and pulled her hand back abruptly. She gazed at him intently, trying to memorize his facial features. Then she smiled, satisfied, and walked out of the living area.

Anakin raised his own hand to his cheek, relieved to feel the warmth of his own fingers. He looked around the living area, noting for the first time the scorch marks on the pale white walls. Tables were over-turned, chairs broken and ornaments had been swept from a tabletop to the ground. The room was full of signs of violence that had - or would - happen in this home.  
“Ani, are you in there?” called a new voice.  
This was not the voice of a woman but the voice of a young man. The echo of the corridor garbled it but Anakin could already recognise this particular presence. It was Obi-Wan Kenobi, the young twenty year old Jedi Apprentice that Anakin had been introduced to at the tender age of nine.

Anakin walked out of the living area, wondering bemusedly where his mother had gone to. He found Obi-Wan standing in the middle of the courtyard under the open sky, a Padawan braid resting lightly on his shoulder. The desert storm had stopped and the stars twinkled at them from above. Anakin had not seen Tattooine’s skies since he was a boy but the constellations were all achingly familiar. Anakin tore his gaze away from the night sky to look at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan’s normally serious face was upturned to the night sky as well. He glanced to Anakin with his eyes and smiled, his eyes shining with a joy that had become less and less common when he had achieved knighthood.  
“Beautiful night, Ani,” said Obi-Wan, breathless in his honesty.  
“Beyond compare,” agreed Anakin, though he was more interested in studying his fellow Padawan.  
Obi-Wan frowned, tilting his head as if listening. He looked at Anakin, curiously.  
“Ani, do you sense that? A vague... sense of danger?”

Anakin closed his eyes and felt his awareness of the Force surge to the front of his mind. He felt it in his bones and imagined it as a thousand splintered colours in his mind’s eye. He sensed the vibrant, living Force presence of Obi-Wan. Anakin knew that the Force could not be seen but it pleased him to visualise Obi-Wan as a pulsing blue spirit. He could sense the dull, nebulous background of the planet’s own energy but nothing else - not a single living thing. When Anakin opened his eyes again, Obi-Wan was backing away from him warily. His eyes were locked on Anakin and his entire body was tensed for a fight.  
“It’s behind you,” said Obi-Wan, his voice tight and his accent crisp.  
Anakin turned but there was nothing there. Obi-Wan was still backing away but had already reached the other side of the courtyard. The fear on Obi-Wan’s face had faded to be replaced by a neutral mask but Anakin could see a flicker of deep concentration in those blue eyes.  
“There is darkness there,” Obi-Wan whispered, frozen in place on the other side of the courtyard.  
The stars above them seemed to dim, deepening the shadows. Anakin shook his head to clear it.  
“It’s no darker over here than it is where you are,” said Anakin lightly.

He had seen moisture farms at night and it wasn’t quite enough to scare him. Anakin’s breath puffed out as frosty mist and he couldn’t remember it getting so cold.  
“Where _I_ am?” Obi-Wan asked, his eyes widening in horror.  
Obi-Wan turned slowly to gaze around him as if he expected the sand-floor to rise up and swallow him. His gaze locked on the darkened speeder bay entrance behind him. Anakin watched as a shadow detached itself from the darkness and walked towards Obi-Wan. The sound of heavy breathing reached Anakin’s ears - a heavy, slow passage of air through machinery. As the indistinct black shape moved, it fluttered at the edges as if buffeted by an invisible wind. As it continued to approach Obi-Wan, Anakin found that he couldn’t move.  
“Obi, move. Get out of here!”  
Anakin tried to shout but all that came out was a hoarse whisper.

Regardless, Obi-Wan seemed to hear him. Obi-Wan turned to look at Anakin helplessly, giving the shadow time to move closer. Obi-Wan turned back to the shadow just as it stopped directly in front of him, breathing and heaving. There was the distinctive snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting. A cruel, bright red blade crackled angrily in the night air. It illuminated the face of Qui-Gon Jinn, his features hollowed and ghoulish. As the stars darkened completely, Anakin watched the blade swing through the air towards Obi-Wan’s body. 

Anakin managed to propel himself forward, a cry of denial on his lips - when he hit the cold floor. Anakin pried one eye open and looked around. He was still in the _Fahren’s_ crowded little sleeping cabin. A tussled head popped over the edge of the nearest bunk, blinking sleepily.  
“Are you all right, Ani?”  
“Fine, Obi. Just a bad dream.”  
Obi-Wan blinked, grunted, and rolled over. Within seconds his breathing had evened out into sleep. Anakin stayed where he was, looking up at his own bunk and wondering why his mind liked to taunt him in his sleep.


	7. Emalda

Emalda opened her eyes, her night vision filtering the view of the darkened cabin through shades of green and black. She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes again, hoping she’d go back to sleep. A minute or two of staring at the back of her own eyelids made her give up. She was awake whether she wanted to be or not. Still she lingered in the bunk, tail twitching as her eyes fixed on the glowing graffiti written across the roof of the bunk. The inscriptions had been made with a luminous ink that was only visible to Ekash eyes. Emalda’s four companions may have been Jedi but they were all still human.

During the time of the Empire, the Ekash had done all they could to capitalise on their physical resemblance to the human race that the Empire heavily favoured. With furry tails disguised beneath clothing and contact lenses covering their slitted pupils, they had easily passed as a race of sandy-haired humans. The solution, however, had proved as harsh as the threat itself. Successive Ekash governments had censored and restricted the development of their own culture - language, music, fashion, science and philosophy. The uncensored inscriptions on the bunk above her had been written in her native tongue of Jalul; something she had not spoken aloud in eight years. At reading one of the dirtier jokes, she snickered to herself before looking to see if anybody was awake to hear.

As soon as Emalda had discovered the graffiti above the top bunk in the right wall, she had insisted on claiming it - despite the awkwardness of reaching it. She still didn’t know what the Jedi thought of her sudden eagerness to sleep there. They kept their own counsel and Emalda was out of practice when it came to inviting conversation. Normally, Anakin occupied the top bunk in the column across from her but the bed was empty, except for creased sheets and an indented pillow. With bad grace, Emalda gave into the inevitable and sat up. She pushed off her blanket, grateful that the air was cool but not cold. She swung down from her bunk until her bare feet encountered the bunk below her. Ben usually slept there. He was gone but warmth still lingered in the blankets when she reached out to touch them with her toes.

When her feet abandoned Ben’s bedding for the cabin floor, the metal surface was freezing. She curled up her toes and bit back an exclamation. She released her grip on the bunk above her and nearly trod on a sleeping Anakin. Anakin had curled up on the cabin floor between Ben and Obi-Wan’s bunks. His blanket protected him from the chill of the floor, with one of his own arms acting as a pillow. The small thin braid that was the mark of his apprenticeship to Ben lay across his face. Emalda quashed an impulse to tuck the braid behind his ear - he was no child and Emalda was no mother.

She stepped over him. Obi-Wan lay on his back in the bunk below Anakin's, the blanket pulled all the way up to his chin. He continued to snore softly as Emalda passed him. Qui-Gon was folded awkwardly into the bottom bunk of the far wall. He didn’t stir as she opened the door and entered the dimly lit cargo bay. Anakin had dubbed it the "cargo closet" because of its small size. Even Emalda had begun to use the term, much to her own chagrin. The _Fahren_ may have been her ship but she and the Jedi had been virtually confined in the small space for the past five months. It was impossible to find a part of the ship that she didn’t now associate with the Jedi; Qui-Gon meditating in the sleeping quarters, Obi-Wan wrestling with the nav computer, Ben practicing with his lightsaber in the cargo bay. Emalda was happy to share the _Fahren_ as an asset for a joint cause but she wasn’t sure how she felt about sharing the actual experience of the ship.

Emalda had left her home world with little more than the clothes she’d been wearing. The only item of any value she had was the _Fahren_ itself, designed and built by her dead sister, Yulana. The Jedi similarly had few possessions but she wasn’t courageous enough to ask why. Ben had described a lifetime of travelling the galaxy and that the acquisition of material wealth was considered a distraction from the religious ideals of the Jedi. He had never once made a reference to the Emperor’s destruction of the Jedi Order and she certainly had never brought it up.

She navigated through the stacks of crates they'd used to partition the cargo bay into smaller areas, heading towards the crates that held their personal belongings. She opened the crate that she’d claimed as her own and pulled out a change of clothes, examining them critically. She chose a dark grey tunic and pants that had been gifts from Leia. They weren’t particularly fashionable but not long enough out of fashion to make Emalda stand out from a crowd. The scuffed work boots had been her first purchase in preparation for this mission. They were good quality and would last for many years yet. The last piece of clothing she pulled out was a bottle-green jacket that reached down to her knees. With the stitching coming loose, it was beginning to look a little worse for wear but it had belonged to Emalda for more years than she could remember.

She picked up the case containing the contact lenses that allowed her to pass for human but then put it back, unopened. She felt like taking a risk this morning.  
“Good morning,” said a voice dryly. “Although it’s closer to evening, really.”  
Emalda jumped, startled. She edged around the stack of crates to find the speaker. Ben was sitting on a low crate, using another crate for a table. A bowl of soup rested on the makeshift table along with a jug of juice and a cup. Ben’s expression was polite and dignified but there was a twinkle in the blue eyes and a hint of a smile hiding behind the beard. He knew very well that he’d surprised her. It was difficult for Emalda to suppress an answering smile but she kept her face grim.

“You surprised me,” she said sternly.  
“Yes,” agreed Ben, unconcerned.  
“That wasn’t very nice.”  
Ben searched her expression, trying to tell if she was joking. She determinedly kept her face still. Ben’s eyes flickered but trying to understand what it meant was like trying to read a blank screen.  
“Perhaps not,” Ben added at last.  
It was the closest to an apology as Emalda was ever likely to get. She had just successfully bluffed a Jedi Knight.  
She stepped forward, “Well, I guess you could make it up to me...”  
The grin escaped, ruining her stern expression. Ben answered her with a grin of his own, appreciating the attempt to bluff. She expected retaliation to be swift.  
“And how exactly can I do that?” he asked, his expression just a little too friendly and earnest.

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled another crate into place beside him and gestured for her to sit. She did so, laying the bundle of clothes in her lap. He then sat back and looked at her. She realised that he was expecting her to name her price.  
“You could share your soup,” she suggested hesitantly.  
“I could indeed do that,” said Ben, handing her a spoon.  
She took the spoon cautiously and Ben sat back, folding his arms. He was watching her. She waited for another comment but Ben said nothing. Emalda stretched out her hand and scooped up a spoonful of hot soup. He watched her lift it to her mouth, tip the soup out and swallow. He was still not moving, just watching. She stretched out the spoon again. Ben’s eyes followed her movements. She took another spoonful. Ben's eyes were starting to unnerve her so she shut her eyes and focused on the taste of the soup.

The soup was rich and creamy and full of herbs that she'd never tasted before. Since leaving her home planet five months ago, Emalda had been exposed to hundreds of foods she'd never tasted before. She liked this one. She opened her eyes again. Ben was still watching her. He'd brought one of his legs up to rest it on his other knee. The casual posture was at odds with the unblinking gaze. She was never quite sure where she stood with Ben. She was aware that part of her attraction to him was undoubtedly because his sandy brown hair closely resembled the hair colour that all Ekash shared, without exception. The distinctly human blue eyes and beard had taken longer to get used to but less time than she had expected.

She could feel his keen interest in her as a physical certainty and she was Force-sensitive enough that she trusted her instincts. At first, she was sure it was physical attraction but he had yet to make any advances. His unruffled self-confidence had made her hesitate to make a move of her own. Instead, they played an endless and private game where the rules and the goals forever changed. Ben watched her silently for as long as it took her to finish the bowl of soup. She paused at each spoonful, giving Ben the opportunity to ask for the bowl back. When he didn't speak, she would swallow the soup. He blinked exactly four times. It took her twenty-three spoonfuls until the bowl was empty.  
"Well, it seems I've drunk all your soup," she told him.  
Ben smiled, "Actually, I got that bowl just for you. I ate earlier."  
She gave him her best scowl. He laughed.


	8. Qui-Gon

Qui-Gon awoke and was instantly alert and ready. Something had awoken him and his hand automatically sought the lightsaber he kept by his side at all times. Laughter sounded again from the nearby cargo bay and he relaxed - nothing more disturbing than his companions had awoken him. With no reason to rise immediately, he rolled onto his back before remembering that the end of the bunk preventing him from fully straightening his legs. He only just managed to squeeze into the bunks, which were obviously designed for the shorter Ekash. After five months of sleeping in cramped positions, even Qui-Gon’s legendary patience was starting to fray.

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around the cabin. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. When they did he was able to see his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, still sleeping on his bunk in the central column. Anakin’s bunk was empty. Qui-Gon swung his legs to the floor, the rustling of blankets noisy in the silence. Obi-Wan muttered in his sleep, rolling over without opening his eyes. As Qui-Gon tied his long, greying hair back from his face, he regarded his sleeping student. Obi-Wan was dead to the world. His mouth was open and the blanket was wrapped tightly around him. Qui-Gon believed in early rising but they had only recently arrived from another time zone so he was inclined to let the young man sleep. The change in times seemed to affect Obi-Wan the most, by some unknown quirk of metabolism.

While pondering the strange habits of young padawans, Qui-Gon walked barefoot towards the door. He paused at the threshold to look back at Obi-Wan. It was at that point that he realised that Anakin was asleep on the floor - strange habits of padawans, indeed. Shaking his head, Qui-Gon walked out the door into the cargo bay and was greeted by another burst of laughter. Emalda and Ben sat together in their improvised dining room, chuckling.  
“Good morning,” said Qui-Gon.

Emalda froze, startled, but Ben smiled warmly in greeting. Emalda took another moment before she turned to Qui-Gon with a strained smile, her posture stiff and unwelcoming. He had seen her without her contact lenses in before but he had learned the hard way not to mention it aloud. It was hard not to be offended when she was so obviously hostile. He knew she couldn’t help it and that it was a product of her previous experiences. Qui-Gon simply acknowledged his own feelings of offense and released it to the Force.

“Good evening, I believe,” said Ben, either not noticing or choosing to ignore Emalda’s response.  
“Is it dark out?” asked Qui-Gon.  
“If it’s not already, it will be soon,” said Ben lightly. “Juice?”  
Ben held out a jug and an empty cup. Qui-Gon nodded and pulled up another crate to use as a chair. As he sat down, Emalda shot to her feet.  
“I was thinking,” said Emalda quickly. “That it would be a good idea if I went and purchased more food supplies.”  
“Don’t forget to take a commlink with you,” Ben reminded her. “You know where the credits are.”

Emalda smiled at him and moved to their locked box. She rummaged through it for the sacks of New Republic credits they kept for purchases. They had an electronic account provided by the Senate for their mission but it had proved difficult to access on some of the more remote planets, such as Wefhuk. Qui-Gon took the cup of juice that Ben handed him, watching as Emalda retreated into the fresher to change. When he looked back, Ben was refilling the jug of juice with a self-satisfied smile.  
“Ben,” said Qui-Gon.  
There was an edge of warning in Qui-Gon’s tone that registered and Ben looked up warily.  
“Is something wrong?” asked Ben.  
“Not wrong exactly,” said Qui-Gon cautiously. “I just regret that Emalda and I do not get along as well as I should like.”  
Ben nodded and poured a cup of juice for himself. Qui-Gon suspected it was mostly to occupy his hands.  
“It is hard for her to trust people,” said Ben. “She did not trust me at first.”  
“She did not get along well with Leia either,” Qui-Gon pointed out.  
“Leia means well but she can be very forceful with her opinion,” said Ben.

Qui-Gon wanted to respond to that but Emalda’s re-emergence into the cargo bay effectively ended the conversation. She drew herself up to her full height when she caught Qui-Gon’s gaze and smiled when she caught Ben’s.  
“If we are not here when you return,” said Ben. “We have gone to chase up more leads. We will have our commlinks with us.”  
“You say that every time,” she reminded him.  
“Makes it easier to remember,” said Ben.  
“Have a good evening.”  
“Good evening,” said Ben.  
“Good evening,” echoed Qui-Gon, wondering if Emalda had even noticed him speaking.

She wrapped her green jacket around her, extended the ramp and disappeared into the darkness. Ben watched her leave before starting to clear the makeshift table.  
“Would you like some soup?” he asked Qui-Gon as he stood.  
Qui-Gon nodded and took a sip of his juice. Ben placed a bowl of hot soup in front of him. The soup was a little creamier than he preferred but it was warm. Qui-Gon ate in silence while Ben retrieved a ration bar for himself.  
“These bars are about to expire,” explained Ben, in response to Qui-Gon’s questioning look. “We have to eat them soon and Emalda will replace them with fresh ones from the markets.”

They ate in silence for a while. Qui-Gon had much he wanted to say but there seemed no need to rush. There was little urgency in their lives these days.  
“We need to discuss the progress of our mission,” said Qui-Gon finally.  
Ben swallowed his mouthful, and nodded in agreement.  
“Has the New Republic Senate contacted us?” asked Ben.  
“Not since the last time,” said Qui-Gon. “But our funding will not last us forever.”  
“And by the time all the Senate’s sub-committees and sub-sub-committees decide to approve continuing our mission,” said Ben. “We’d all have starved to death anyway.”  
“The price we pay for democracy,” agreed Qui-Gon.

Ben was silent, crumbling the end of his ration bar. He tilted his head to the side in a gesture so typical of the young, eager boy he'd trained that it made Qui-Gon’s stomach lurch. It was sometimes hard to remember that this reserved Jedi with the same blue eyes had served for a decade as a Jedi Knight in his own right.  
“Do you have a suggestion?” asked Ben finally.  
“After five months of investigation, we have not yet located the scientist Rivea Colash,” said Qui-Gon. “We have simply followed one vague lead after another - and while our mission is important, I am worried that we are losing focus. We are forgetting what it means to be Jedi."  
"My first impulse is to suggest that we find a place to be alone for a few months to reconnect," admitted Ben, fiddling with the wrapping from his ration bar. "The apprentices would certainly benefit from it.”  
"Obi-Wan seems tired more than anything, possibly homesick for the Jedi Temple," said Qui-Gon. "We also need to be more firm with Anakin. He is far too impulsive and we need to deal with it.”  
“We?” asked Ben.  
His tone was mildly questioning but Qui-Gon thought a hurt expression might have crossed his face briefly.  
"I'm not sure we can justify abandoning the mission yet," added Ben quickly, avoiding eye contact. "Emalda is depending on our assistance."  


Ben's fingers crushed the wrapping of the ration bar and he walked across the room to drop it into a disposal unit. Qui-Gon waited for Ben to sit down again before answering.  
"Emalda has her own reasons for joining this mission," Qui-Gon reminded him. "Dr Colash is her mother. We should not get too attached - to her or the mission."  
“I understand that, Qui-Gon,” said Ben, looking a little defensive. “But we must also keep in mind that the _Fahren_ belongs to Emalda. If we choose to resign the mission, we'll have to find alternative transport. And where would we go, if we decided to stop following the trail?"  
“Why go anywhere? This planet is in a relatively calm region of space. It’s pleasant and out of the way.”  
Ben turned his gaze to the wall, “How would we support ourselves?”  
“When researching this planet, I noticed that there is a labour shortage in many of the farming communities,” offered Qui-Gon.

Ben stroked his beard as he considered this possibility. He gazed off into the middle-distance, perhaps imagining life as a farmer. He didn’t seem happy about the prospect.  
“There is a lot of seasonal work around,” said Qui-Gon. “We wouldn’t have to commit to any form of contract or long-term employment.”  
Ben’s gaze flicked to Qui-Gon and then back to the wall.  
“How about we give it two more days?” suggested Qui-Gon. “If we don't find another lead here within two days, we should go into the countryside and find work."  
Ben nodded, reluctantly, “Agreed. Two days.”


	9. Emalda

Emalda swept her hair into a ponytail and forced her heartbeat to slow. She was not yet inside Tscoruh Bar but already the loud music was verging on the point of pain. The rotund Kuhd security guard, Crose, who had escorted her from the spaceport didn't seem to be bothered by it. The Kuhdren were a scaly humanoid species with poor eyesight and dull hearing but a spectacular sense of smell. The newly settled world of Wefhuk was not the Kuhd home world but they made up more than half of the population of settlers. Many of the bars catered specifically to Kuhd sensibilities by spraying scented smoke and playing loud music with deep tones that could be felt through vibrations in the floor - some of the classier places even had floors specially designed to transmit the vibrations to the patrons. The establishment which Emalda was queuing outside of was not quite that sophisticated. It was not Wefhuk’s trendiest bar but Emalda didn’t need it to be.

A small cloak room by the front door doubled as a waiting room for escorts. Tradition demanded that no Kuhd should enter a public doorway unless escorted by a Kuhd warrior. In theory, both men and women needed to be escorted by a trained warrior but in practice, mostly women were escorted by male acquaintances. It wasn’t that the males were acting as chaperones - the escorts had no responsibility or duty to control or even monitor the behaviour of their charges. They were only required for the scant seconds it took for their charges to enter or exit the doorway. Kuhd superstition held that doorways and thresholds were dangerous places frequented by spirits. Some of the spirits were benevolent but many were angry and thought to strike out indiscriminately at those that passed. The Kuhd-dominated government of Wefhuk genuinely felt they would be negligent unless they provided interplanetary visitors with the same level of protection they afforded their own. So, several Spaceport Security officials were designated as official escorts and were on standby to accompany offworlders to any locations they wished to visit.

Emalda might have been more sympathetic to the practice if it were applied equally to men and women. She had threatened to strike out into the city alone until Qui-Gon had insisted they respect Wefhuk’s laws and traditions while they were on the planet. Hence, officer Crose had become her unwelcome and perpetually bored shadow. As she passed her entry fee to the female bouncer at the door, Crose readjusted his belt around his ample waistline and huffed impatiently. He watched her closely until she had both feet over the threshold. Then he nodded in satisfaction and ambled off to the waiting room. His departure made her a fraction calmer but not much. She had not been in a bar of any sort for many years; towards the end of her time on Ekara, the army had begun to greatly restrict her movements.

She stood still for a moment to take her bearings. All of the bars she had ever visited had been full of Ekash with the occasional human visitor. This time there were many different alien species, most of which she'd never seen before. She pulled her jacket tighter, covering her nervously twitching tail. She moved towards the bar, bumping shoulders with the other patrons. It was early yet and though the tables were packed, the bar itself was relatively clear. She claimed a bar stool recently vacated by a Kuhd wearing a colour combination so garish Emalda had to avert her eyes.

There were only two bartenders behind the bar, a human woman and a green-skinned twilek. Emalda signalled and the human walked towards her. She was blonde and heavyset which probably owed more to age and hard work than it did natural tendencies. Hard lines and wrinkles were just beginning to spread across her face, but the texture of her skin seemed strange to Emalda - she’d never seen make-up that thick before.  
“What can I get you, honey?” asked the bartender loudly in a voice rough with smoke.  
“You’re Chara Polli?” asked Emalda, leaning across the bar so that she wouldn’t have to shout over the music. “I placed an order with Crose.”  
Understanding lit the bartender’s eyes and she nodded in acknowledgment.  
“Kuhd mead, honey,” said Chara. “If you’re new to Wefhuk, I’d recommend it.”  
“I see,” said Emalda. “And how much is that?”  
Chara casually glanced around to ensure they weren’t being overheard.  
“72 Aisy, honey,” said Chara. “Or sixty New Republic credits, if that’s all you carry.”

Emalda slid a sack of fifty Republic credits onto the bar and then added ten more coins. Chara slid the money just as quickly below the counter, counting quickly. Once she was satisfied, a glass of amber liquid was placed on the counter in front of Emalda.  
“See the droid before you leave,” said Chara briskly, waving a thick finger across the room.  
The green twilek watched them out of the corner of her eye as she wiped out a glass and set it on the bench. Chara moved to join her, whispering in her ear. Left alone, Emalda sipped gently at her drink as she swiveled on her stool to search the bar. A group of tables closest to the massive speakers had been avoided by most of the patrons. Amongst these tables a serving droid balanced precariously on a single wheel, only remaining upright through constant motion. The droid’s thin arms waved about erratically, occasionally coming down to make a swipe at a dirty table top with a washcloth. The washcloth was already so filthy that whenever the washcloth actually managed to make contact with the tables it didn’t make them any cleaner.

Emalda picked up the drink and emptied it in one go. She spluttered, expecting the burn of alcohol but not the overpowering sweetness. She returned the glass to the bar and slid from her stool. She approached the droid. The droid seemed largely oblivious to her approach, beeping and humming to itself. As she neared it, the droid whirled unexpectedly and the washcloth smacked into Emalda’s face. With a startled squawk, Emalda fell backwards against one of the tables. Equally startled, the droid tried to back away, overbalanced, and ended up on its side on the ground. Nursing her cheekbone, Emalda stood up. The droid was waving its arms frantically and twisting awkwardly on its back.

“W3-D7 has fallen and cannot get up!” squealed the droid. “W3-D7 has fallen and cannot get up!”  
Emalda looked around. Most of the patrons were ignoring the racket (or couldn’t hear it over the music) but a few seemed to regard it as an entertaining distraction. Chara Polli was serving a customer but the Twilek was watching Emalda in growing alarm. A bouncer appeared and glanced over at Emalda but the Twilek slid out from behind the bar to intercept him, gesturing nervously and talking quickly. The droid, W3-D7, showed no signs of falling silent. Sighing, Emalda reached down and grabbed the droid's arms. With a firm yank, she hauled it back upright. The bouncer saw the droid was upright and seemed satisfied that the situation was under control. He returned to where he'd come from. The twilek shot a look of annoyance at Emalda before returning to the bar, where Chara Polli was waiting with a thunderous expression. Emalda got the impression that she had best be quick and turned back to the droid.

“W3-D7 is now up,” said the droid. “W3-D7 is grateful for your assistance.”  
“I was told you had something for me,” said Emalda, leaning close to the droid’s hearing sensors.  
“Are you the Ekash?” asked W3-D7, electronic suspicion creeping into its tone.  
"I have a tail," said Emalda irritably.  
“W3-D7 thinks you are the Ekash,” said the droid generously. “So W3-D7 will give you the package.”  
The droid opened a compartment in its chest and pulled out a brown parcel. Emalda grabbed one end of the parcel. For a moment, she feared that the droid would not let go of the other end. Then W3-D7 released the parcel so suddenly it nearly fell over again.

“Will the Ekash be leaving now?” asked the droid.  
“I was going to wait for a while...” said Emalda. “To avoid suspicion.”  
“But the Ekash must leave. The Ekash already has the parcel.”  
W3-D7 began to wave its arms in agitation. Emalda cringed, hoping that the droid was not going to begin squawking again. Chara Polli was still watching her.  
“Very well,” snapped Emalda. “I’m going.”  
“W3-D7 hopes the Ekash has enjoyed its time here. W3-D7 hopes you will return soon,” said the droid. “But the Ekash will leave now, yes?”

Emalda stuffed the package inside her jacket and stalked to the bar exit. One of the female bouncers seized her arm as she lifted a foot to cross the doorway. Her arm was nearly yanked out of its socket by the Kuhd, whose squinting eyes seemed far less friendly than her wide-toothed smile.  
“Whoa,” said the Kuhd pleasantly. “Just a moment. Which escort was yours?”  
Emalda suppressed the urge to hiss or stomp her foot at the universe.  
“Crose.”  
“I’ll just get him. Don’t go anywhere yet…”

Crose soon appeared outside the bar, nodding in gratitude at the female bouncer and settling his hands on his hip for the serious business of watching Emalda walk through the doorway.  
“Can I come out now?” asked Emalda.  
Crose nodded, “When you ready.”

She brushed past him and into the streets. She was heading towards the markets to buy supplies. She hadn’t told Crose but he sensed that she was in no mood to chat and trailed behind her, resuming his bored expression until six men in the iridescent red uniforms of the Wefhuk Investigative Service came charging around the corner. Emalda braced for an impact, but the officers weren’t interested in her. One hesitated at the sight of Crose’s blue Spaceport Security uniform and accidentally bumped Emalda on his way past. He was human, with his silver hair slicked into such large spikes that it pulled on the skin of his forehead and gave him a permanently wide-eyed expression. He blinked and muttered apologies before sprinting after his colleagues. Even while Emalda was reassured that they had been law-enforcement officers, she still checked the contents of her pockets in the privacy of the nearest fresher she could find.


	10. Anakin

Anakin's first thought when he awoke was that it was too cold. He pulled his blanket tighter around him before realizing he was lying on the floor. He must have gone back to sleep after falling out of his bunk. He looked up at the ceiling, seeing a shape silhouetted above his head. He frowned at it for a few moments before realizing it was a foot. He followed the foot to an ankle, and then to a leg hanging over the edge of the bunk directly above him. The foot twitched and withdrew under the blankets.  
A tousled head appeared and Obi-Wan squinted groggily at him.  
"You make me cold just looking at you," yawned Obi-Wan. "What are you doing down there?"  
Anakin shrugged, "Bad dream."

Anakin stood up and perched on the edge of Obi-Wan's bunk. Obi-Wan scooted over so that the two of them could squeeze in. They lay next to each other for a minute, both gradually realizing that they weren't going back to sleep.  
"What was it about?" asked Obi-Wan finally, yawning again.  
"Complicated but, apparently, I have trouble telling the women in my life apart," said Anakin. "Do you ever have bad dreams, Obi?"  
"Sometimes," said Obi-Wan. "But not as many as you seem to."  
"What do you dream about?"  
"I dream... about all kinds of things," said Obi-Wan evasively.  
"Do you dream about the past?"

Obi-Wan was silent for awhile, and Anakin was about to ask again when the other Padawan answered.  
"Sometimes I dream I'm back in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant," said Obi-Wan softly. "With all my friends - Bant, Garen, Siri. There were so many of us. We were ready to take on the galaxy."  
"Sounds like a nice dream," said Anakin wistfully, trying to imagine the seasoned Jedi Knights he had known as eager young Padawans.  
"A sad dream," said Obi-Wan, gaze locked on the roof of the bunk. "But I like those ones better than... the dreams where I wake up in the temple and I'm all alone. There's not another living soul in the entire temple."

Anakin twined his braid around his fingers and sighed.  
"Have you tried asking your Master about your dreams?" asked Obi-Wan.  
"Yes," said Anakin. "He simply said it was part of the grieving process and that I would eventually move past them."  
"You don't believe it?"  
Anakin shrugged and unwound the braid from around his fingers.  
"You could always ask Qui-Gon's opinion."

Whatever response Obi-Wan was expecting, it clearly wasn't the disbelieving snort that Anakin gave. Obi-Wan sat up abruptly and Anakin wished he had kept quiet.  
"What's wrong with asking Qui-Gon?" asked Obi-Wan fiercely, staring at the side of Anakin's face.  
Anakin found he didn't want to turn and meet Obi-Wan's gaze. Their moment of peace was gone.  
"I don't think Qui-Gon likes me very much," said Anakin, talking to the bottom of the bunk above them. "I don't think he likes Emalda very much either."  
One of Obi-Wan's eyebrows rose challengingly and Anakin risked only a brief glance before averting his gaze again.

"I can't say why," said Anakin. "It's just a feeling."  
"I think you're imagining things," said Obi-Wan. "I mean, he wasn't happy about what happened on Escopju..."  
"His reaction was completely out of proportion," said Anakin grumpily. "I was chasing a thief!"  
"And because you chased him over a quarantine line, we all got stranded there for three months," pointed out Obi-Wan. "And that was after Ben explicitly warned you not to."  
"Yes, well," said Anakin irritably, rolling out of the bunk. "It wasn't Qui-Gon's order I disobeyed so I don't know why he was so angry."  
Anakin activated the lights, Obi-Wan blinking at the sudden brightness and wiping sleep from his eyes with one hand.

"Qui-Gon is very reserved," offered Obi-Wan. "Maybe you're just misreading him."  
"Sometimes I think I'm imagining it but other times, he seems so..." Anakin shrugged and found his boots. "It's like he looks for reasons to disapprove of me. He's always giving advice and studying how I receive it - as if he expects me to disagree or argue with him."  
"He's a Jedi Master," said Obi-Wan, shaking his head and finding his own boots. "He's already in the habit of teaching. He probably doesn't even realize he's doing it."  
"I can't put my finger on what feels wrong about it," said Anakin. "But I think Ben's noticed."  
"Well," said Obi-Wan, pulling on his outer tunic. "I still think you're imagining things."  
Obi-Wan slid out of bed to finish dressing.

Anakin shook his head, wishing he was able to better explain his feelings. There were too many things that felt unfinished, too many loose ends clattering about in his head while he slept. He supposed that being dragged more than thirty years into the future could do that to people.  
"Breakfast?" suggested Anakin, changing the subject.  
Obi-Wan nodded and turned to make up the bunk with quick and efficient movements. Anakin repressed the urge to roll his eyes. He could clearly see how Obi-Wan had grown into the man they were calling 'Ben' Kenobi. Much as he valued Obi-Wan as a friend, he sometimes could be exasperated by his seriousness and attention to duty. Still, Obi-Wan seemed to know the way to gain Qui-Gon's approval. Learning that trick would definitely make Anakin's life easier, so he swept his blanket off the floor and climbed up to straighten the bedding on his own bunk.

Obi-Wan was waiting for him by the door, and they entered the cargo bay together. Several pieces of equipment had been set up on a makeshift table. Qui-Gon was perched on the edge of a low crate with his long legs planted firmly on the floor and his hands resting on his knees. His eyes still had the same kindness that Anakin had seen when he was nine - now Anakin saw through older eyes, he also saw an imposing and formidable Jedi Master, and he marveled at the audacity of his younger self. Qui-Gon was facing them as they entered and the smallest flicker of a frown crossed his features. Anakin faltered mid-step but Obi-Wan was there to move him on with a gentle push.

Ben was sitting with his back to them, one leg crossed casually across the other. His attention was focused on the datapad in his hand.  
"Let's hope we don't run into any unexpected trouble," Ben was saying to Qui-Gon. "We won't be able to afford any new parts for a very long time..."  
Ben paused and turned to greet the Padawans with a smile.  
"I trust the two of you slept well," said Ben.  
"Well enough, Master," Anakin nodded.  
Ben frowned at his answer but did not press him further. He held up the datapad and was about to speak when Qui-Gon interrupted.

"Anakin, we cannot help if we don't know the problem," said Qui-Gon pointedly.  
"There is no problem, Master Qui-Gon," said Anakin stiffly.  
An uncomfortable silence lasted for a moment before Ben spoke, looking irritable in a way that usually only Anakin caused.  
"And you, young Obi-Wan," said Ben. "How did you sleep?"  
"Very well, Master Ben," said Obi-Wan, eyes darting briefly to Qui-Gon. "Thank you for asking."  
"Somebody had to," muttered Ben.  
Qui-Gon frowned at the exchange, but said nothing about it.

Qui-Gon moved to activate the holographic projector on the table. The projection was a holographic map of the spaceport and the surrounding city of Cahbun. The flickering city looked like a maze of tunnels, with each area branching away from central spines. Anakin and Obi-Wan moved closer to get a better look.  
"That's interesting," said Obi-Wan, eyes riveted to the hologram.  
"I'll say," said Anakin enthusiastically. "They sure have improved holographic resolution in the last thirty years."  
"I meant the layout of the city," said Obi-Wan, gesturing with his finger. "Their urban development branches like a shrub or plant."  
"Well, I suppose that's interesting too..." conceded Anakin.

"The Kuhd consider potential building sites based on qualities such as scent and soil composition," explained Qui-Gon.  
"They're lucky to have a population small enough to be so particular," said Obi-Wan.  
"They'd never build like that on Coruscant," agreed Anakin.  
"Which is quite possibly why the missing Dr Colash was here," said Qui-Gon. "I can imagine a botanical scientist would appreciate their selectiveness. The same plan as previous planets - we contact all local nurseries and gardening shops. Hopefully, we'll be able to pick up the trail again."  
"Assuming she hasn't moved on to the next planet already," sighed Ben. "Anakin and I will work our way south from the spaceport."  
"In that case, Obi-Wan and I will move northwards," said Qui-Gon, leaning forward to study the northern portion of the map in more detail.


	11. Qui-Gon

Qui-Gon waited on the landing platform that had been assigned to the _Fahren_ , the stars above and the city of Cabhun stretched out below him. Cahbun was a relatively young city, and the original designs were not grandiose or impressive. It was pragmatic in its design and heavily influenced by the Kuhd, who valued scent above all other senses. Qui-Gon wondered what the Kuhd smelled when they arrived in the spaceport. Did the city smell welcoming? Did it smell of frustrated ambitions or just of a small, industrial town grown beyond its original function?

He could see Ben and Anakin striding away from him, towards the main Spaceport building. Even at this distance, he could see the tension in their body language and Anakin constantly glancing over his shoulder. Then they went through a door and were gone.  
"Ready, Master," called Obi-Wan, joining Qui-Gon at the foot of the _Fahren's_ boarding ramp.  
"Time we were off," said Qui-Gon.  
The younger man ran a hand through short hair, turning to take in the view below. Qui-Gon resolved to ask for Obi-Wan's first impressions later, to see if the city gave the younger Jedi the same sense of practicality as it did Qui-Gon.

They set off down the ramp and out into the city. It was evening and quite a few people were out, the standard work cycle just finished. Illumination in the streets was patchy but speakers played a constant stream of musical commercials, barely audible over the voices of pedestrians. Every street had railings which separated pedestrian paths from the speeders and swoops on the road. There was a lot of vehicle traffic and at every street corner sensor platforms controlled the traffic flow by emitting tones of different pitches.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan joined a group of Kuhd waiting at one of the sensor platforms for the chance to cross the road.  
"Master," said Obi-Wan in a low voice. "Might be trouble."  
Qui-Gon followed Obi-Wan's gaze to see three red uniforms of the Wefhuk Investigative Service stopped on the opposite street corner. The officers were looking at the two Jedi and talking to each other with serious expressions.  
"I know we've been good at finding trouble," said Obi-Wan. "But this is fast, even for us."  
"Do not overanticipate, Padawan," said Qui-Gon. "There is no problem until there is a problem - but be on your guard."  
"As always, Master."

The sensor platform let out two low beeps and then one high one, signalling that it was safe for pedestrians to cross. Qui-Gon led the way across the road, the Investigators lost from sight in the throng of people. Obi-Wan had just joined him on the other side of the road when one of the Investigators stepped directly in front of Qui-Gon.  
"How can we help, officers?" asked Qui-Gon respectfully, stopping.  
"I am Investigator Tylip," said one, stepping forward and tasting the air with a forked tongue. "Of the Wefhuk Investigative Service."  
"I am Qui-Gon, and this is Obi-Wan."

Tylip spoke slow and calm but his body language was angry. His hands were clenched into fists and his gaze darted around faster than Qui-Gon could follow. Qui-Gon had seen enough Kuhd at the Spaceport when they had docked to know it was not normal behaviour. The junior investigators flanking Tylip also look disturbed. One of the juniors tried to look tough and intimidating but blinked nervously at Qui-Gon from a dark face and an impressive set of hair spikes.  
"You are not residents of Wefhuk," said Tylip at last. "May I ask your business here?"  
"You're sure it's business that brings us?" countered Qui-Gon.  
"Wefhuk does get some tourists," said Tylip, hooking a hand into his belt. "But I think you are not one of them. You have purpose and discipline."  
Qui-Gon dipped his head in acknowledgement. 

Tylip turned to Obi-Wan, who was listening intently at Qui-Gon's side. The young Jedi had sensed the same anger and had adopted a non-threatening posture.  
"What is it that brings you here?" asked Tylip, addressing Obi-Wan.  
"We're looking for a missing woman," said Obi-Wan. "The mother of a friend of ours."  
Tylip waited but Obi-Wan offered nothing more. Qui-Gon folded his arms across his chest, the movement drawing Tylip's attention.  
"We are searching for an Ekash woman named Dr Rivea Colash," said Qui-Gon. "She arrived on Wefhuk a little less than two years ago."

Tylip removed his hand from his belt, pulled out a datapad and began scribbling notes.  
"And you suspect she is still here?" asked Tylip.  
"We don't know yet," said Qui-Gon. "We hope so."  
"Two years is a long time," said Tylip. "You must be talented private detectives to follow a trail so cold."  
"We are doing our best," said Qui-Gon.  
Tylip's tongue darted out, tasting the air as he considered that. Qui-Gon couldn't tell what his sense of smell told him.  
"I see," said Tylip eventually, sounding unconvinced.  
Tylip returned his datapad to his pocket and tasted the air again.

"Tell me, are you aware that there are smugglers operating in Cabhun?" asked Tylip.  
"We were not," said Qui-Gon. "But we are newly arrived. We haven't had time to become aware of local issues."  
"And what are you _aware_ of, exactly?"  
"We're investigating plant nurseries as a source of possible leads. That has been our primary concern."  
"This is pertinent to your _investigation_ , I take it?"  
Qui-Gon nodded, and Tylip tasted the air.

"What kind of smuggling?" asked Obi-Wan.  
Tylip swung around to Obi-Wan, stepping into Obi-Wan's personal space to examine his face carefully.  
"Wefhuk's primary industry is mining, particularly minerals like jade," said Tylip. "A profitable business, which a group of unscrupulous and violent thieves have been targeting."  
"People have been hurt?"  
"Seven," snapped Tylip, spittle spraying into Obi-Wan's face.  
Obi-Wan wiped his face while Qui-Gon resisted the urge to place himself between them. The junior investigators looked torn between supporting Tylip or restraining him. Obi-Wan met Tylip's gaze head on and held his ground. Tylip was the first to look away, taking a step back and reining his anger in.

"When did you first arrive on Wefhuk?" asked Tylip crisply, replacing his anger with cool formality.  
"Less than a standard day ago," said Obi-Wan. "We're still not adjusted to Wefhuk time zones."  
"Where is your accommodation? One of the hotels?"  
"We have so far remained on board our ship."  
"The name of your ship?"  
Obi-Wan glanced to Qui-Gon before answering, "The _Fahren."_  
Tylip added this to his data-pad.  
"If you should think of anything," said Tylip. "Contact the Investigative Service and ask for me."  
"We wish you luck in your investigation," said Qui-Gon, dipping his head in farewell.  
Tylip turned away sharply and strode down the street, his junior investigators hurrying to catch up.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged looks as they resumed their original course.  
"Why do I get the feeling we've just become the lead suspects?" asked Obi-Wan dryly.  
"We didn't tell him we were Jedi," said Qui-Gon. "He knows we left out some details. He's angry but not easily fooled."  
"We could always tell him," said Obi-Wan. "Luke Skywalker is open about his Jedi identity."  
"He is also quite open about his allegiance to the New Republic. Many in the galaxy tend to think of the two as linked," said Qui-Gon, shaking his head. "This is a newly settled planet with tense relations with the New Republic's government. I doubt revealing ourselves will help our cause. There is also the not so inconsequential fact that Tylip is looking for a target for his anger."  
Obi-Wan frowned and fell silent, his forehead creased in thought.

Qui-Gon opened his own mind and senses as they walked. It was one of many Jedi exercises they had neglected over the past month. He saw the paths on which they walked were surfaced with compacted stone fragments. He felt the imperfections and irregularities beneath his boots. He knew from his brief research that the stone had been left over from the city's recent construction phase. The buildings that lined the streets were mostly built of a stately green stone but some were cobbled together from recycled ferrocrete. The building facades were plain but with an open design that shared noise and warmth with one's neighbors. There were as few public doorways as possible but plenty of archways, windows and verandahs. Qui-Gon was fully aware of the street and his connection to the Force was stronger for it.

As they approached the market districts the pathways grew even more crowded. Qui-Gon studied each of the pedestrians as they passed: Kuhd, Human, Phindian. Each was a unique and wonderful contribution to the galaxy and to the Force. Wefhuk was not an overcrowded metropolis like Coruscant. The people stepped aside for children playing underfoot. They stopped to greet their friends in the streets. They laughed. Qui-Gon could very easily feel at home here.

They approached their first destination, a garden nursery located next door to a bar playing music loud enough to be heard from across the street. The nursery itself was a cramped little building made of ferrocrete with two stories and a balcony. A painted sign in an unfamiliar language hung over the entrance and local plant life hung in pots and slings from the balcony. Several curling black plants in the hanging pots stretched out their fronds towards the next-door bar. As the bar music quietened between songs, the fronds drooped in disappointment. When the music grew louder again, the fronds stretched out again enthusiastically. Qui-Gon smiled to see them.

He walked through the nursery's doorway, Obi-Wan following close behind. The floor was divided into a series of garden beds, all layered in moist black soil with a stone fragment path winding its way around the room. The plants were green and brown and black, curving and rustling; responding to the presence of the Jedi. Still more plants hung from the ceiling, and a rope ladder at the back wall disappeared upwards to the second storey.  
"Hello?" called Qui-Gon.  
The black plants twitched even more at the sound of his voice. There was a rustling and a thin young human slid down the ladder.

"Welcome, welcome," called the boy, ignoring the path and walking through the garden beds.  
Some of the plants stretched out to grasp his feet but he shook them off gently with the ease of habit.  
"How might I serve?" he asked.  
"We are looking for an Ekash woman who may have been here two years ago," said Qui-Gon. "She is a plant scientist."  
"Oh," said the boy, looking crestfallen. "We've only been here six months."  
"I see," said Qui-Gon, bowing. "Thank you for your time."

"Are you sure I can't interest you in an Achid plant?" asked the boy, brightening again as the idea occurred to him.  
He gestured at one of the black plants that was desperately stretching for them.  
"No, thank you."  
"Are you sure?"  
"Yes, I am quite sure."  
"You might regret it."  
"I don't think so."  
"They're native to Cabhun, you won't find them anywhere else."  
"No. Thank you."


	12. Anakin

As they left the third nursery empty-handed, Anakin wasn't quite sure who was more agitated - Ben or himself. There was a tightness in Ben's shoulders and a stubborn set to his jaw. Anakin couldn't fight the urge to fidget and move, his gaze raking up and down the streets that they passed through. Ben came to a stop at a sensor platform and staring resolutely across the street.  
"Anakin," said Ben, not making eye contact.  
Anakin stopped beside him, frowning when his Master didn't continue.  
"Yes, Master?" Anakin prompted.  
"I have been... glad to have you as my apprentice," said Ben, his voice soft. "You've always challenged me, in ways I never expected."

Anakin looked at Ben suspiciously, touched but unable to shake the feeling that this had something to do with Qui-Gon. Ben swallowed and his jaw tightened again.  
"But you still have much to learn," added Ben.  
The slight disapproval was more familiar and reassuring.  
"That's what I have you for, Master," said Anakin lightly, a cheeky grin crossing his face.  
"Yes, you do," said Ben firmly. "And I'm not going anywhere - I can promise you that."

The grin spread across Anakin's face, though he was embarrassed at the ridiculousness of it. It was a simple promise but it made him feel warm inside. He opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted as the sensor platform signaled for pedestrians to cross. Ben stepped out on the road without looking back to see if Anakin was following. It was clear he was eager to be done with the conversation.

Anakin rolled his eyes and then stepped onto the road to catch up. He was still several metres behind Ben when a bleating siren sounded. Anakin paused in the street to look around for the source of the unfamiliar noise even as the other pedestrians shuffled to either side of the road. The siren was the warning before a red land speeder came weaving through the stopped traffic and charged out into the middle of the intersection. It was escorted by four red-uniformed Investigators riding swoops. The driver of the land speeder saw Anakin, adjusted its course, and sailed on through the intersection - siren loud enough to deafen the watching pedestrians. The rider of the final swoop, trailing behind the land speeder, didn't see Anakin until it was too late. Fortunately, Anakin had better reflexes than the swoop rider.

Anakin threw himself to the ground, falling into a forward roll that carried him to the edge of the road. He heard Ben shout and felt Ben accessing the Force to accelerate Anakin's roll. The wind from the swoop's wake ruffled his hair, setting his padawan braid flapping. His head hit the railing at the edge of the road and he uncurled to flop on the ground. As the world stopped spinning, Anakin watched as the swoop rider slowed her vehicle to a stop on the opposite side of the intersection. The other three swoop escorts glanced back but continued on after the land speeder. The sensor platform let out three high beeps and a low one to indicate the end of the pedestrian crossing cycle.

Ben ducked under the railing and grabbed Anakin beneath the armpits, pulling him to his feet and back from the road in the same movement. Ben held a still-dazed Anakin upright against him as the traffic resumed. Several of the pedestrians that witnessed the near-accident converged on them but Ben waved them on.  
"He's fine," said Ben, wearing his professional crowd-managing smile that didn't quite meet his eyes.  
A couple lingered in skepticism but left when Anakin managed to get first one foot, then the other, to take his own weight. 

Once they had moved on, Ben let go so that Anakin could stand on his own.  
"Must you always find your own excitement?" grumbled Ben, patting Anakin down for injuries.  
"Well, technically speaking, they were the ones who disobeyed the traffic signals, Master," pointed out Anakin, running his fingers through his hair and fingering what was likely to become a nasty bruise. "They were certainly in a hurry."  
"You didn't see the MedCentre logo on the speeder, then?" asked Ben. "They were either going to or coming from an emergency."  
"And nearly created a new emergency in the process," said Anakin sullenly.  
Ben smiled and dusted off Anakin's shoulder. 

Behind them the sensor platform let out two low beeps and a high one. The traffic stopped again and the swoop rider came shuffling across the road towards them. The driver reached up with long, solid arms to remove her helmet. She was Phindian, her arms stretching past her gangly knees, and her skin smooth and dark - except for the white patches around her yellow eyes. She stopped in front of them on the path, cradling her helmet in the crook of an arm.  
"Are you hurt?" she asked. "I didn't see you. Well, that's not true. I did see you but not until it was too late."  
"No lasting harm done," Ben assured her, smiling and clapping Anakin on the shoulder.  
"Except to my pride," grinned Anakin. "And from what I hear, I could probably stand to lose a bit of that."  
"If you do go down to the MedCentre later," said the Investigator, looking Anakin up and down uncertainly. "Ask them to contact Investigator Irus - that's me - and I'll see you don't pay any fees for treatment. As long as it's within the bounds of reason, I say."  
"That's quite generous," said Ben. "But really not necessary."

"Out of curiosity," said Anakin. "What was the emergency?"  
Irus grimaced and tightened her long-fingered grip on her helmet. It was only then that Anakin noticed her red uniform was streaked with ash and singed at the edges.  
"Officer injured in the line of duty," she said. "We're escorting her to the MedCentre."  
"Are her injuries serious?" asked Anakin.  
She nodded curtly and looked away. Her jaw trembled and Anakin didn't need the Force to sense her distress.  
"I'm sure she was proud to do her duty," said Anakin.  
Irus snorted mirthlessly and shifted her helmet to her other hip.  
"Not so," she said. "Sometimes a job is just a job."  
"You have our sympathies," said Ben sincerely.

She nodded grimly and loosened her white-knuckled grip on her helmet.  
"We're new to Wefhuk," said Ben. "My name is Ben and this is Anakin. We've been here about two days so far. I must say the layout of the city has been far different than we're used to."  
As Ben spoke idly about the handful of sites they'd visited around Cahbun, Irus relaxed incrementally and Anakin sighed internally. Anakin knew Ben when he was in information-gathering mode.  
"Well, dancing is a form of religious expression for the Kuhd," explained Irus. "And given that they have had previous tense relations with the Hutts, dancing for money is considered the equivalent of prostitution in many of..."  
She broke off as her helmet let out a shrill beep.  
"Excuse me, please," she said, bobbing her head.  
"That's quite alright," said Ben. "We've taken enough of your time. We hope to see you around."  
Ben nodded politely and stepped away. Anakin, slouched against a railing, straightened up and fell into step beside him.

Irus watched them walk away as she replaced her helmet to activate her communicator.  
"Well?" demanded Tylip's petulant voice.  
"They're not likely to sue," said Irus, cutting to the point. "They're foreigners but they seem to be decent folk."  
"Just as well, that's the last thing the Service needs right now."  
"How did the other raids go?"  
Tylip was silent for a moment and Irus could picture him flicking his tongue out in annoyance.  
"Several casualties," said Tylip curtly. "We didn't manage a single arrest, though a couple were killed trying to escape. They knew we were coming. Someone must have tipped them off."  
"But we kept the plans so tight," said Irus. "Only the Investigative Service and Spaceport Security knew."  
"Exactly," said Tylip. "And if Spaceport Security were in on it, it explains how easily they keep getting their loot off-planet."

“I don’t know,” said Irus. “I have a hard time believing that of one of our own is working for the smugglers. There’s no way an outsider could have hacked into our system?”  
“An interesting suggestion,” said Tylip. “I talked to a pair of human offworlders today that seemed pretty suspicious. They’ve only been on planet a couple of days but I’m planning to keep tabs on them anyway.”  
Irus looked down the street in the direction Ben and Anakin had disappeared. She chewed the corner of her lip thoughtfully.  
“A pair of human offworlders? Were they male and wearing plain tunics? The older one has a beard and the younger one clean-shaven?”  
“Yes,” said Tylip suspiciously. “The younger one had short hair with a single long braid.”  
“Damn,” said Irus. “It was the younger one I nearly ran over. They seemed really nice.”

Tylip snorted and Irus shrugged, forgetting Tylip couldn’t see her.  
“… not that I would spare the pond scum for a second if I thought they were involved with the smugglers,” added Irus.  
“Follow them,” said Tylip. “And see what you can find out. And _be careful_.”


	13. Emalda

Emalda handed over the credits for her order at the front counter. The shop display featured meats and vegetables compressed into small ration cubes. They were stacked in multi-coloured pyramids, the steam-driven preservation process giving them a plastic-like sheen. Their less than appetising appearance had been offset by the ease with which they could be melted into something approaching edible.

The droid server used a shovel-shaped appendage to scoop the coins off the counter and into a sorting machine. The sorting machine beeped and the droid turned back to Emalda.  
“Incorrect currency supplied,” said the droid. “An extra ten credits needed to complete transaction.”  
“What?” asked Emalda. “Are you trying to cheat me? I gave you the exact change.”  
The squat sorting machine chimed in with its own sequence of beeps.  
“The sorting machine says you are incorrect,” translated the service droid. “Either you are mistaken or you are attempting to underpay the correct product price.”

Emalda scowled and opened her mouth to complain when Ben and Anakin strolled past the shop window.  
“Alright,” said Emalda, pulling out her coin purse. “You’ll get your extra ten credits but only because I’m in a hurry. And when the supplies are delivered, you can bet I’ll be counting them carefully. If anything’s missing, you’ll be hearing from me again.”  
“We thank you for your patronage,” said the droid. “Please come again.”  
“Not likely,” grumbled Emalda.

Emalda rested a protective hand over the brown parcel tucked underneath her jacket, checking it was still secure. Satisfied, she stepped to the doorway and looked around for her escort. Crose looked up from where he was slouched against the outside wall and watched her carefully as she stepped through the doorway. Emalda ignored him and scanned the street. Ben was already out of sight in the crowd but she still see the taller Anakin. 

She was about to call out to them when a red uniform caught her attention. Investigator Irus was striding through the crowd some distance behind Ben and Anakin. Emalda’s first instinct was to slink into the crowd and disappear. The Investigator was ignoring her, and years of harassment by military officers had taught her that anonymity was a blessing. Instead, she stepped out to join the slow-moving procession, with Crose tailing along behind her.

Emalda eventually lost sight of Anakin but tailing Irus’ red uniform proved much easier. The crowds began to thin as they reached the edge of a city branch and Emalda fell further behind to keep out of sight. There was now only a single row of buildings between the street and the black-soil plains that lay outside the city. Irus turned a corner, into an empty alley between a closed droid shop and an out of business dispensary that ended in an open plain.

Emalda walked casually past the alley entrance, unable to follow with no crowd to hide in. She got a quick glance of Irus stopped in the middle of the alley, looking upwards at an adjacent building – it seemed she’d lost Ben and Anakin. Emalda walked on and turned the next corner, unsure whether she should double-back or not. She waited for Crose to join her, wondering what he was thinking of their silent chase. When he didn’t appear, she ducked her head around the corner only to see a completely empty street. The portly Crose was nowhere in sight.

”So much for protecting visitors,” she grumbled. “Is there anyone I haven’t managed to lose today?”  
She backtracked, scanning the alley where she’d last seen Irus. The alley only ran the length of one building in that direction and there was no fence to mark the city boundary. In the far distance, a few scattered lights illuminated the silhouette of the next branch of the city. Emalda had never seen an urban street end so abruptly.

She walked into the middle of the alley and rested her hands on her hips. There were no doors as far as she could see, though the illumination was just as bad as anywhere else on Wefhuk – the nearly blind Kuhd didn’t require it. She could see silhouettes on the droid shop roof, and guessed they were some of the shop’s failed merchandise. The only advantage of the lack of artificial light was that the stars shone brighter than they did in most cities. Emalda stared at them for a while.  
“Well, do you have anything helpful to say?” she asked the stars.  
There was no reply but she stood looking at them for a while, taking comfort in their light. It was the only reason she saw the attack coming.

A figure appeared over the edge of the dispensary's roof. It took Emalda a moment to identify the shape in its hand as a blowpipe aimed in her direction. Emalda bellowed in both anger and fear, before back-pedalling towards the main street. A small metallic dart impacted on the wall beside her, narrowly missing her head. She nearly made it to the street when an old protocol droid landed in front of her in a shower of sparks. She threw herself to the side, losing her balance in the process. The rusted silver protocol droid had long been deactivated, half of its parts taken as salvage.

The sniper on the roof took advantage of her distraction and she had only just regained her feet when a dart hit her squarely in the chest. She landed on her backside, more from surprise than the force of the blow. The metal tip punched easily through her jacket, impaling itself on the brown parcel without touching her skin. Emalda pulled the dart out and threw it to the ground. She scrambled back to her feet.  
"Oh, is that the best you can do?" she demanded.  
The furious sniper missed with their next five shots as Emalda swung around and made a break for the other end of the alley. She fumbled with her commlink as she ran, thumbing the button.  
"Help! Ben, help me!"

Investigator Irus came loping from the direction of the black plains, blaster in her hand. She fired a string of shots at the roof of the dispensary, forcing the sniper to stop firing and take cover. Emalda dropped the commlink in surprise and backed away, as frightened of the blaster-wielding officer as she was of her attackers. Irus seized Emalda around the waist and pulled her into the only cover there was - behind Irus' own body.  
"This is Investigator Irus," shouted Irus. "Put the weapon down!"  
Irus held out her blaster with one arm and held Emalda in place with the other. Emalda grabbed a fistful of Irus' jacket and hung on.  
"There are two of them," squealed Emalda, only too happy to stay behind the other woman.  
She gripped Irus' arm as there was movement on the roof of the droid shop.

Irus turned and fired, hitting a shadow that turned out to be one of the old droid carcasses on the roof. The droid's power-pack sparked, briefly flashing light across the roof. Emalda made out a figure with twilek head-tails before another hail of darts came from the sniper on the dispensary roof.  
"Back to the main street," shouted Irus, shoving Emalda in that direction.  
Irus fired at the greater threat from the dispensary as they ran. Emalda kept her head down, certain she would be hit at any moment. Neither of them were watching the roof of the droid shop.

A power generator droid tumbled to the ground in front of them, crushing what was left of the protocol droid. Unlike the vaguely humanoid protocol droid, the box-like generator droid weighed at least three times as much as the combined weight of the two women it narrowly missed. It blocked off most of the alley, leaving only a narrow gap between the droid and the wall. Both women slid to an abrupt halt, Emalda bumping into Irus behind her.

A dart slammed into the back of Irus' head and the Phindian's muscular arms went limp, dropping the blaster to the ground. Irus' back arched and she fell forwards, her muscles starting to seize. Emalda tried to catch her and they both went down. Completely paralysed, Irus watched with wide eyes as a head appeared over the edge of the dispensary roof. After another moment, the second head with twilek tails popped over the edge of the droid shop. Emalda fumbled for Irus' blaster, trying to shove the Investigator's stocky body off her own. The blowpipe was raised again just as Emalda wrapped her fingers around the blaster's handle.

Running footsteps echoed in the alley before a blue lightsaber flared into life to intercept the three darts fired at the two women. The darts were incinerated, leaving grey puffs of smoke hanging in the air to mark the spot. Ben stood over them with his lightsaber in hand, confident and unhurried as he watched the dispensary roof. Another trio of darts sped towards him and he picked them off precisely. Anakin raced into the alley with his own green lightsaber lit and ready. Anakin leapt using the Force towards the droid shop where a maintenance droid was teetering on the edge - directly above Ben's head.

Anakin's leap carried him almost to the top of the wall, where he clung to the edge of the roof with his free hand. With his lightsaber he slashed at the maintenance droid, cleaving it neatly into two halves. Both fragments of the droid toppled backwards, crushing the second assailant. The injured attacker screamed high and sharp. Anakin shifted his balance to vault onto the roof but instead released his grip as he sensed a stream of darts aimed at his unprotected back. Gravity caught him and he let it drag him to the ground, twisting to face the source of the sniper's fire as he fell. The stream of darts tracked him as he moved.

With the sniper focused on Anakin, Ben left his position over Emalda and Irus to leap towards the dispensary roof. The sniper didn't wait for him and took off running across the rooftops. Just as Ben mounted the roof of the dispensary, two grenades were launched from the droid shop behind him. Ben easily deflected the first with a casual wave of his hand but sliced at the second as it came at his face. The grenade exploded as the lightsaber hit it. Ben reeled back at the deafening boom and blinding flash of light. He dropped his lightsaber and rolled backwards in search of cover.

A second explosion sounded from up on the dispensary. Unable to see Ben, Anakin began to leap up to check on him. He had almost made the roof when instinct again made him turn, just as Emalda shouted a warning. A third grenade was dropping towards Emalda and Irus. Anakin let himself fall to the ground again, waving the grenade away. The grenade did not travel far before it detonated mid-way between Anakin and the women. Emalda felt like her head had exploded - her eyes burned and her ears throbbed. Her nose was full of a strong chemical smell, worse than the strongest cleaner she had ever encountered. She could still feel the weight of the paralysed Phindian across her legs. 

Dirt flicked up against her face as someone landed in the alley beside her with a thud she couldn't hear. A strong hand gripped her shoulder and she felt someone's breath tickling her ear. She flung out a hand and hit a body less than an arm's length away. She followed the fabric up to a hairy jawline and a tangle of shoulder-length hair. It was Ben. She sighed and sank forward to rest her forehead on what she suspected was a shoulder. He put an arm around her shoulders and let her be for a while.


	14. Qui-Gon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woops. I didn't mean to leave so much time between posts or to leave it on a cliffhangerish ending - real life got in the way. I promise this story will not remain a WIP indefinitely. It has an ending.

Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan was as impatient as he was. They walked in the MedCentre's front doorway, watched over by Kuhd escorts stationed at the door: another service provided by the government of Wefhuk. As soon as they were through, the escorts turned their attention elsewhere. They didn't bother to watch as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan headed straight for the front desk, manned by a male Kuhd nurse.

"Hello," said Qui-Gon, leaning over the counter. "We'd like to check on the condition of several patients admitted here. Ben Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker and Emalda Colash."  
"Just one moment," said the nurse, squinting at his terminal screen. "What were the names again?"  
Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan twitch with impatience at his side. He understood the feeling. He took a deep breath and repeated himself calmly and clearly.  
"Ben Kenobi..."  
"Is that with a _c_ or a _k_?"  
"With a _k_."  
"Looks like he hasn't been admitted to a ward but he's still in one of the treatment rooms. What were the other names?"

"Anakin Skywalker..."  
"I've got an Anaken Skywelker. Could that be him?"  
"If someone spelled his name incorrectly, yes."  
"Well, he's in the same room as Ben Kenobi. The third name?"  
"Emalda Colash."  
"Same story again. All three are in treatment room 3M," said the nurse. "Take the lift to the third floor, and it's the twenty-second room on your right."  
"Thank you," said Qui-Gon, already moving away.  
"Hm-hmm," said the nurse absently, as the next worried face approached his desk.

Obi-Wan managed to hold a lift that was already half-full. The other occupants of the lift moved over to accommodate the two Jedi. Obi-Wan jabbed at the button for the third floor.  
"Remember to breathe, Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon.  
Obi-Wan let out the breath he'd been holding sheepishly.  
"Sorry, Master."  
It was a tense ride to the third floor, and then a long corridor where Obi-Wan counted the doors under his breath. Qui-Gon had mostly regained his calm when they finally reached Treatment Room 3M.

Anakin opened the door before they reached it, smiling tiredly at them. Obi-Wan rested a hand on Anakin's shoulder as he checked him briefly from head to toe.  
"I'm fine," said Anakin. "Just tired."  
Anakin waved them into the room.  
"We are all perfectly fine," said Ben, perched on a treatment bed across the room. "They just insisted on more bureaucracy before they released us. Typical."  
Qui-Gon gaze was drawn to Ben's right hand where it rested on his knee. Several shallow cuts peppered the fingers, extending up to the wrist where Ben's sleeve began.

Emalda sat hunched over on the bed beside Ben, her jacket and parcel cushioned in her lap. Ben's robe was draped across her shoulders and she seemed to be trying to disappear inside it. Emalda returned Qui-Gon's look without any of the usual hostility. In fact, her expression was so devoid of emotion that it worried Qui-Gon instantly.  
"Simple flash grenades," explained Ben. "We were stunned temporarily but there should be no permanent harm. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for my lightsaber. My blade made contact with a detonating grenade."  
Qui-Gon looked back to Ben's injured hand with new eyes, recognizing the shallow cuts as shrapnel wounds from an exploding lightsaber. Ben was more than lucky that the hand was still attached.

"Any idea who attacked you?" asked Qui-Gon.  
"There were two," said Ben. "Anakin injured one but they both got away."  
"I'm assuming you weren't exactly in a condition to pursue," agreed Qui-Gon. "Any idea what they were after?"  
"None," said Ben. "They seemed to go for Emalda first but Anakin and I were very nearby. There was also a local law enforcement officer as well."  
"Maybe they were just after money," said Emalda hollowly. "Maybe nowhere is _really_ safe."  
"These things happen," said Qui-Gon, advancing with the intention to lay a reassuring hand on her knee. "You shouldn't let it control your life."  
Emalda stiffened as he approached and shot a panicked look at Ben. Qui-Gon let his hand drop before it made contact. Ben leant sideways to touch his shoulder to Emalda's. It reassured her enough that she made eye-contact with Qui-Gon again.

"That officer nearly died," said Emalda. "She heard me yelling and came to help. Now she's paralyzed and on life support."  
"Was she there when the attack began..." asked Obi-Wan.  
Obi-Wan was interrupted when the door to the treatment room swung open. Investigator Tylip stood them for a moment, squinting at them.  
"Investigator Irus' paralysis is fading slowly," said Tylip gruffly. "In a few weeks she should be fun."  
"Sorry?" said Qui-Gon.  
"I said she should be fine."  
Tylip paused and looked Qui-Gon up and down suspiciously.  
"Why do you ask?" said Tylip.  
"I just misheard you," said Qui-Gon. "I hope she has a speedy recovery."

Tylip stepped forward to stand toe to toe with Qui-Gon, undeterred by the fact that the Jedi Master towered over him by at least a foot. Ben gently moved Emalda from his side and stood up from the bed.  
"We're glad to hear that," said Ben.  
Tylip swiveled to face Ben, his forked tongue flickering out to taste the air. At last Tylip took several steps back to a more polite distance. He still looked Ben up and down, likely looking for weapons. Qui-Gon reflected that it was a good thing Ben's lightsaber was no longer clipped to his belt. The other three Jedi had all concealed their lightsabers beneath their robes.

"And _who_ exactly are you?" asked Tylip.  
"My name is Ben Kenobi," said Ben crisply, bowing respectfully in greeting.  
"I am Investigator Tylip, as I'm sure your friends have told you by now."  
"They had not yet had the chance but I am very pleased to meet you," said Ben evenly. "This is Emalda Colash and Anakin Skywalker. Am I to assume you have already met Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan?"  
"We met very recently," said Tylip. "And speaking of recent events, am I to understand that you were all present for this... attack?"  
"Only Anakin, Emalda and myself," said Ben. "I contacted Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan afterwards, and asked them to meet us here."

"Did you know your attackers?" asked Tylip.  
"We did not recognise them," said Ben. "Though I suspect one of them was a twilek."  
"There are almost a thousand twileks on the planet so that hardly narrows it down," scoffed Tylip. "Do you know _why_ you were attacked?"  
"Because my escort chose that moment to get lost?" suggested Emalda bitterly.  
"Investigator Irus was hit by a dart coated in a very distinctive poison," said Tylip. "This poison is not particularly common - except that it is used by the smugglers currently operating on Wefhuk. I ask you again, are you sure you don't know _why_ you were attacked?"  
"We do not," said Ben firmly.

Anakin stepped forward, Obi-Wan at his side. Tylip's gaze didn't leave Ben.  
"How was Investigator Irus' friend?" asked Anakin.  
"Friend?" asked Tylip.  
"The one who was injured. Irus said she was escorting an injured colleague to the MedCentre."

Tylip whirled to face Anakin, puffing out his cheeks. Anakin paused, looking to Ben for help. Tylip saw the exchange of glances and his expression turned nasty.  
"I know you people are hiding something from me," said Tylip. "And if I find out you had anything to do with these robberies or the deaths of those Investigators - believe me, you'll be sorry."  
"We had nothing to do with these things," said Qui-Gon.  
Tylip snorted and walked to the door. He paused in the doorway to pin each of them with a look.  
"If I were you," he said. "I wouldn't be leaving Wefhuk unless you want to be in any more trouble."  
With that, he turned and marched off down the corridor. The two other Investigators hurried to catch up.  


Emalda slid off the bed, folding Ben's borrowed robe tighter around herself and hugging her parcel.  
"So, before all this excitement," she said. "Any luck finding my mother?"  
Qui-Gon started guiltily as Ben shook his head regretfully. In all honesty, Qui-Gon had been so focused on his plans for the future he'd nearly forgotten their current mission. He would certainly have scolded the Padawans for such a lapse in concentration.  
"There is a matter that we were discussing earlier...," began Qui-Gon.  
"Now, however," interrupted Ben smoothly. "Is probably not the best time to revisit the subject. Anakin can escort Emalda back to the _Fahren_ to rest but I see no reason the rest of us cannot continue the search."  
Qui-Gon wanted to argue that he did not see the point in delaying a conversation that was going to be unpleasant. Emalda was the least hostile she'd been since they'd met. However, with Ben's robe wrapped around her she also reminded Qui-Gon of a small child seeking comfort. She looked exhausted and lost and Qui-Gon acceded to Ben's wishes with a nod.

Anakin looked at Ben.  
"Are you sure you're alright?" asked Anakin.  
"I'm fine," said Ben. "Just see that Emalda makes it back to the _Fahren_ safely."  
Anakin bowed to Ben and Qui-Gon.  
"Stay in the populated areas," added Ben.  
"Not necessarily safer, Master," said Anakin.  
"Humour me."  
"If you say so."


	15. Anakin

The night sky was beginning to lighten as Anakin and Emalda approached the _Fahren_. Emalda was still clutching her jacket and parcel. They had spoken very little on the walk.  
"Did you finish purchasing supplies?" asked Anakin politely, though the last thing he wanted was conversation.  
"Supplies? Oh, yes. Yes, I found everything we needed."  
She gazed off into the middle distance. Anakin noted that the robe she'd borrowed from Ben had stitching coming loose on the bottom hem.

"Where did you learn to be a Jedi?" she asked suddenly. "Is it very far away?"  
Her vertical pupils focused on Anakin's face. She was searching his expression for something other than the answer to his question.  
"I was trained in a Jedi Temple," said Anakin uncomfortably. "Though, not the one on Coruscant obviously - the Empire destroyed that before I was born."  
"The same for your Master, then," asked Emalda, apparently not noticing Anakin's uneasy lie. "Or was he old enough to remember... the time before the Purge?"

Anakin stopped, flustered. He couldn't remember the careful dates Leia had taught him, about how long ago the Empire had purged the Jedi Order. Ben was thirty-five. Was that old enough to believably have memories of the Republic? Was it safer just to lie and claim Ben had never known life before the Empire? Leia had briefed them on the things they would be expected to know but Anakin remembered only the dates that applied to Anakin himself. He hadn't thought he'd need to lie on Ben's behalf.

"I'm sorry," said Emalda, gazing at him sadly.  
Anakin frowned at her in puzzlement before realising she'd interpreted his flustered silence as distress. She was fidgeting restlessly with the sleeve of Ben's robe.  
"I shouldn't have mentioned... so many Jedi died...," she stammered uncertainly. "I'm sure you don't want to talk about it."  
"No, I don't particularly want to talk about... that," agreed Anakin, grateful for the out.

Anakin had never had many close friends in the Temple, and as he'd grown older and his missions more frequent, he'd seen the few he had less and less often. Obi-Wan was easily able to name several old friends and age-mates, missing specific people. Anakin had grieved the loss of the Jedi Order but it had always been for the loss of the family they had been to him rather than the loss of the individuals. He hasn't spent much time thinking about his own age-mates; not even about what fate might have befallen Tru Veld, whom he had considered his closest friend at the Temple.

They walked in silence up the ramp and Emalda walked in a daze towards the cabin. Anakin paused to close the ramp again. Anakin wondered that it had taken him this long to think of Tru Veld. He even spared a thought to wonder what had become of those like Ferris, who had never been a friend of Anakin's by any stretch of the imagination. He could remember walking into his first lesson with the other Initates, older than all of them but lacking the basic skills that many had been learning since before they could walk. He had always been talented but it was like being gifted at jumping hurdles before you knew how to walk from one to the next. Anakin was maybe the last one alive to have known them.

Anakin entered the cabin to see Emalda sitting forlornly on her bunk. He crossed to sit opposite her, on Obi-Wan's bunk.  
"Some things shouldn't be forgotten," said Anakin. "Ask me if you want."  
"I don't want to... open old wounds," said Emalda.  
"Ask away," Anakin assured her.  
"Something easy," Emalda promised him. "Uh... how old were you when you started Jedi training? I've heard rumours about the Jedi stealing _babies_ and that kind of thing..."  
"Sometimes babies were taken in, if they had the ability," said Anakin grinning. "But, they weren't stolen. Parents' permission only."  
"Oh, of course," said Emalda nervously. "I never really believed that one anyway. Can't even remember where I heard it."  
"I was one of the oldest accepted," said Anakin. "Eight years old."

"Kallea's kilts...," muttered Emalda. "Old at eight. How could you ever know anything else?"  
"It's a sacrifice," said Anakin, recognising the warm feeling in his chest as pride. "But for a good cause and the betterment of the galaxy. I can't imagine being anything else."  
Anakin smiled to himself, remembering when the Jedi had been a powerful symbol for everything good in the Republic - a time when a young slave boy on Tattoine had longed to be one of them. It saddened him to think that in this time, there might be other young boys who never got the chance to live that dream.

"So, Ben's been taking you on missions since you were eight years old?" said Emalda. "That's... I can't imagine walking into that kind of situation..."  
Anakin grinned and shook his head.  
"I was accepted into the Temple at eight. I didn't start accompanying my Master on missions until I was twelve."  
"That's still young."  
"There are risks but Ben was with me the whole way. He'd never let anything happen to me."

"So," said Emalda casually. "Ben's upbringing was the same? He had a Master looking out for him too?"  
"Ben's Master was Qui-Gon," said Anakin.  
"So, Qui-Gon's opinion matters to Ben."  
Emalda's expression turned gloomy at this and hugged her knees to her chest. Anakin looked at her suspiciously, wondering if he should warn her that the Jedi Code forbid romantic attachments. He also wondered about the parcel she had been hiding under her coat. Emalda was trying to keep secrets from the Jedi and doing it rather badly.

"Anakin," whispered Emalda, so quiet that Anakin had to lean forward to hear her.  
"Yes?" asked Anakin.  
"Teach me how to fight."  
"WHAT?"  
Anakin pulled back in surprise, giving her a skeptical look.  
"Not your Jedi tricks," she said hurriedly. "Just anything. Just... a blaster... a blowpipe... hand-to-hand even."  
"You don't want to get involved in violence," said Anakin, waving a dismissive hand.  
"I'm already involved."  
"Leave any fighting for us Jedi. We're trained for it."  
"My would-be-muggers didn't care that I wasn't a Jedi," Emalda reminded him, leaning forward to lay a hand on his arm. "I've spent a long time being pushed around, Anakin. I want to feel safe."

"We can keep you safe," said Anakin confidently, covering her hand with his own. "My Master and I won't let anything happen to you. Neither will Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan."  
Emalda pulled away from him in frustration and paced around the room.  
"I didn't say I wanted to _be_ safe," she snapped. "I said I wanted to _feel_ safe, even if its just an illusion. Are those my life choices? Be afraid or find someone strong enough to hide behind? Am I really that pathetic?"

"Don't say that!" snapped Anakin, rising to his feet and inadvertently towering over her.  
She took a timid step back and Anakin had to stop to calm himself down.  
"We're both tired," said Anakin, more calmly. "Maybe when we've rested I can show you a few moves - but it has to be with my Master's permission."  
"Do you think he'll agree?"  
"I think my Master has a lot of time for you."  
He got a smile for his trouble and she turned away to find her sleep clothes. Anakin scrubbed his hands over his face. Between the near-collision and the actual fight, he was exhausted. He stripped off his outer tunics and his boots. He stretched out on Obi-Wan's bunk, determined to rest for just a moment. He fell asleep before Emalda had a chance to say good night.

Anakin dreamed of standing on rich blue carpet, as shafts of sunlight lit empty and silent hallways. Statues of grand beings guarded the staircases that spanned most of the room's width. Majestic pillars towered above his head to a ceiling that was as austere as it was elegant. He could even smell the blooms in the meditation gardens. Anakin was not surprised to be dreaming of the Jedi Temple when he had been thinking of it so much.

There was a flash of lightning and the whole room darkened to pitch blackness. Marching boots and blaster fire fringed the edge of Anakin's hearing but it was too dark to see anything. His skin crawled as he heard two lightsabers clashing, sizzling and snapping, even as the marching boots droned on. Another flash of lightning illuminated the room once more. Midday light returned and Anakin was still standing alone in an empty hall. The smell of battle and ozone lingered. Anakin had the uneasy sense that something had happened, though he couldn't guess whether it was a vision from the future or memory from the past. He reached for his lightsaber, only to find it wasn't on his belt.

Anakin walked out of the hall, glancing over his shoulder. He was watching for attack - or for his Master to appear and berate him for losing his lightsaber again. The door to the map room slid open at his approach. The shades had been drawn and a holographic map of the galaxy activated. Stars, planets, moons - entire solar systems drifted lazily about the small circular room. Qui-Gon Jinn sat cross-legged on the floor, looking up at the display. His companion was an Ekash woman, swathed in soft blue material with a furry tail curled up behind her. Her thick sandy hair was braided into a dozen little top-knots which rested across the back of her skull.

"What about Corellia?" she asked Qui-Gon, pointing at a spinning planet.  
"No," said Qui-Gon. "No Jedi left there, either."  
She pointed at another planet.  
"What about there?"  
"I'm afraid not."  
The Ekash woman titled her head and looked critically at Qui-Gon. She poked him in the chest.  
"What about here?"  
Qui-Gon rubbed the spot she'd poked, and didn't look up as Aankin stepped forward into the room.  
"Yes," said Qui-Gon. "Many of my fellow Jedi do indeed have a place in my heart."  
"They must be very small, then," she snorted. "You may be a big man, Qui-Gon Jinn, but I still don't think you could fit many other people inside you."

Anakin smothered a laugh as he knelt in front of them to examine the woman's face.  
"Are you Dr Colash?" asked Anakin. "We've been looking for you."  
She raised an eyebrow skeptically.  
"Not looking very hard, are you?"  
She tugged sharply on Anakin's braid and laughed to herself. She elbowed Qui-Gon but he didn't share her amusement. Qui-Gon reached into his robes where she had elbowed him, and pulled out Anakin's lightsaber. He balanced it across his open palm, studying it intensely.  
"You want this, don't you?" he asked Anakin.

Anakin reached for it but Qui-Gon pulled it away.  
"I'm not sure," said Qui-Gon suspiciously. "Luke's told me things about you, things of fire and small moons."  
"Nonsense, Qui-Gon," interrupted Dr Colash. "You must have faith that he will take the right path."  
The lightsaber was dropped into Anakin's outstretched hand, though Qui-Gon's frown didn't quite fade. Dr Colash looked very pleased with herself.  
"This is what you should be paying attention to, anyway," she said.  
She pulled a small, brown parcel from behind her back. She looked at it distastefully and then began to wiggle it in the air while making engine noises.  
"Zoom, zoom, Anakin," she said.


	16. Emalda

Emalda woke with a start, her blankets too warm. A lingering confusion stayed with her from a dream that slipped across the edges of her consciousness. She remembered that there had been thunder without rain. The rest eluded her but it didn't seem particularly important. She stared up at her sister Yulana's graffiti. Written perpendicular to the rest of it were the words for an Ekaran nursery rhyme. It was a game that involved lines of children whispering a poem and adding new lines as it moved from child to child until it reached the other end of the line. By the time it was done, the poem would have been misheard and changed. The line that had the most accurate whispers to the original poem was the one that won. By tradition, the first line of the poem was always the same and was also the name of the game: _My mother says your mother says_. Yulana had written it across the top of the bunk in her cramped scrawl.

_My mother says your mother says, the ats are in the flowerbeds  
My mother says your mother says, the marching guard wears only red..._

Emalda couldn't have been asleep long but she felt better than she had earlier. Nearby Anakin laughed softly in his sleep. Emalda glanced to him briefly but he didn't show any signs of awakening. Emalda reached out a hand to touch the graffiti. She wondered what Yulana had been thinking when she'd written this. Had she gone home afterwards to eat a meal with the family? Or had she returned to the lonely apartment she'd moved into after their mother had fled into exile? Was this before she had stormed into the military base, trying to drag Emalda home with paranoid warnings that Emalda would regret ignoring?

_My mother says your mother says, no power like good family._

Tears pricked at the edges of Emalda's eyes. Yulana had built a ship from scratch in order to escape but hadn't lived long enough to use it. There were so many things Emalda still wanted to tell her.

_"I love you."  
"I'm sorry I didn't believe you when you said you were being followed."_

Emalda thrust up a hand to cover the graffiti as the tears began to flow in earnest. When that wasn't enough, she slid out of her bunk to get as far away from the reminder as she could. Anakin twitched and mumbled in his bunk but still didn't wake.  
"We've been looking for you," mumbled Anakin sleepily.  
Emalda stumbled into the cargo bay and into the cockpit, where she knew there was a seat she could recline comfortably. She threw herself into the pilot's chair. How could it have come to this - Emalda alive and Yulana the one lost? It had always seemed fated to be the other way around. Emalda's escape, though, wasn't something she had done on her own. It was Ben who had started it.

 _The first time Emalda had met Ben she had been crouched inside a hangar bay, armed with only a scanner tuned into the military's communication chatter. She had finally been pushed too far by corrupt officials and fled. They were looking for her and the_ Fahren _had been commandeered by the advancing New Republic forces. Emalda had made a promise to herself that she would_ not _go back but she was not at all sure how to keep that promise. She was terrified and alone, with nowhere to run to._

_Blasters fired outside and she nearly gave herself away with a cry of terror. She swallowed it down, where it stuck in her throat as a lump she couldn't clear. She knew they had come for her. She heard the humming sound but it did not seem important at first. When the low hum rose and fell in quick bursts, confusion started to override her fear. She crawled forward on her stomach until she could see underneath the partially raised hangar door._

_The landing pad outside was empty of ships and the vegetation growing through the cracks revealed that it hadn't been used in a long time. The half a dozen Ekash guards outside weren't there for ships. Their uniforms stood out clearly from the purple foliage that grew in the wild jungles behind them. They were firing at something that Emalda couldn't see. A stranger swept in gracefully in between the guards, holding a glowing rod and looking less like a a fighter than an exotic dancer. It wasn't until the stranger deflected a blaster bolt that she realised she was watching a Jedi wielding a lightsaber. She'd heard of the Jedi in passing from Natheb and even then a lot of it was speculation. Natheb would have dismissed her fear. He certainly wouldn't have had any appreciation for the way the Jedi moved, for the complete awareness of his body. Emalda couldn't take her eyes off him._

_The Jedi ran at the guards, his abrupt charge causing one to flinch back and flee. The other five kept firing but couldn't hit their target. The Jedi leapt over the heads of the guards, deflecting two bolts in mid-air. Another guard broke and ran. The lightsaber slashed through the barrels of two blasters and a boot to the chest knocked a guard to the ground. The rest of the guards fled into the forest, most without their weapons. Emalda smiled to herself, despite knowing that her situation was no less serious and that she should still be afraid._

_The Jedi turned his head and looked directly at Emalda, where she was lying on the floor of the hangar bay. Emalda blinked, too surprised by the stranger's face to react. She had guessed from his build that he was male. She had seen humans before, with their strange round-pupil eyes, but she had never seen one with a beard. She stared at him and he stared right back._  
 _"Well, are you going to come out or are you going to just sit there?" asked the Jedi, his tone calm and his accent unfamiliar._  
 _Emalda's life had all but fallen to pieces in the last day and she had no fear left to feel._  
 _"I'm going to come out," she said._

An electronic twitter brought Emalda from her memories and announced that the _Fahren_ was receiving a transmission. She wiped away the tears that had been coursing down her cheeks and activated the comm system. A holographic image flickered and then solidified into the blue Achid plant and spaceship that was the symbol of Spaceport Security. The symbol faded as a chubby Kuhd face and torso appeared, tongue flickering like mad.  
"Officer Crose?" said Emalda, surprised and straightening even further in her seat. "I was beginning to wonder where you'd disappeared to."  
"I apologise, Miss Colash, on behalf of both myself and Spaceport Security," began Crose. "My inattention..."  
"Inattention?"  
Crose blinked at being interrupted. He clutched at his belt and squinted at her through the holographic image.

"I stop to ask for information on this woman you look for," said Crose. "I find something but when I turn to tell you, you are not there."  
"No," said Emalda. "I was busy being nearly mugged - and you didn't even show up to the MedCentre!"  
The tongue flickered again and his hands clenched, and unclenched, around his belt. Emalda could hear the noise of the _Fahren's_ ramp lowering and the voices of the others returning.  
"I apologise, Miss Colash," he said again. "By the time I know what is happened, you are already released from the MedCentre - but I have information for you."

Emalda sighed out loud and ran a hand through her hair. It couldn't hurt to listen to what the portly Kuhd had to say. She waved at him to go on. Crose beamed.  
"I know a hostess who work on a passenger liner," said Crose. "She said she remember an Ekash, about two year ago."  
"Coming to or from Wefhuk?" asked Emalda, immediately interested.  
"Away. To Canemone Orbital Station, in the next system," said Crose. "It is not far and is more... cosmopolitan than quiet little Wefhuk."

Emalda told herself to not get her hopes up. There weren't many Ekash that had ventured off their home planet but there were some. It was possible that it was a stranger. Emalda realised that her knuckles were white from gripping the arm rests of the chair. Crose looked puzzled by her silence.  
"Canemone is close and transport regular," said Crose, continuing hopefully. "No name required for passenger manifest but this Ekash remembered for getting multiple clearances to carry local plant life off world."  
Emalda may have squeaked in her excitement but she forced herself to be calm.  
"Thank you, Officer Crose. It looks like it's all turned out for the best after all."  
"I am glad to help," said Crose. "I am transmit coordinates now. Good luck in search."

The transmission ended in the Spaceport Security symbol. Emalda crossed her arms triumphantly behind her head and swiveled in the chair as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan appeared at the door. Gui-Gon's expression was as serious as ever.  
"So, did you have any luck?" asked Emalda.  
"I'm afraid not," said Qui-Gon gravely.  
"After two years, it's a very cold trail to follow," added Obi-Wan.  
"Success may not be possible," said Qui-Gon.  
Obi-Wan nodded as if he had come to a similar conclusion. Emalda tried not to smirk as she stood and approached them.  
"So, you would be surprised to hear that she was seen boarding a transport for Canemone Orbital Station?" she asked coyly.  
Obi-Wan looked pleasantly surprised. Qui-Gon looked annoyed and it took him a moment to school his expression back to polite interest.


	17. Qui-Gon

Qui-Gon was dismayed at the intensity of his irritation. He was almost tempted to accuse Emalda of inventing this lead just to get them off Wefhuk - except that she didn't even know of the deal Qui-Gon had with Ben. She didn't know Qui-Gon wanted to stay but she had noticed his irritation, and was looking at him suspiciously again.  
"How reliable is this information?" asked Qui-Gon, trying to cover his lapse.  
"From my escort," said Emalda. "He's not particularly reliable but Canemone Orbital Station isn't far out of our way. We won't lose much time if it turns out to be a useless tip."  
"This is the same escort provided by Spaceport Security?" said Qui-Gon.

He knew it was before Emalda nodded. Something didn't feel right but was it just that Qui-Gon didn't want to leave Wefhuk? He was already feeling a connection to this place. It was one thing to be constantly traveling on missions when there was a Jedi Temple to return home to but quite another to be a homeless refugee on a temporary assignment.  
"The Investigation Service may object to us leaving the planet in the middle of a criminal investigation," said Obi-Wan, thoughtfully. "Especially while Investigator Tylip considers us suspects."  
"If we asked permission to leave?" asked Emalda hopefully. "We could promise to return - they'll probably catch the real culprits while we're gone."  
"It's unlikely he'll trust us to return on our own," said Obi-Wan. "And the odds are that a request to leave might look suspicious to him."

She looked crestfallen. Qui-Gon felt sorry for her even as he felt proud of Obi-Wan for speaking well. However, Ben chose that moment to appear behind them. Ben took in Emalda's disappointed expression and then pivoted to turn a disapproving frown on Qui-Gon.  
"We have a lead on Dr Colash," explained Obi-Wan helpfully, for Ben's benefit. "But it's unlikely that Investigator Tylip would allow us to leave during his investigation."  
Ben paused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. Given new hope by Ben's appearance, Emalda held her breath as she watched him.  
"There's not necessarily any harm in asking," said Ben finally. 

Obi-Wan shot him a surprised look before Qui-Gon could. Qui-Gon fought the urge to raise his voice.  
"There might very well be harm in it," said Qui-Gon firmly. "Tylip is suspicious of us already. He specifically asked us not to leave."  
"We just want to ask him for permission to leave," pointed out Ben, sounding perfectly reasonable. "If he says no, we will remain here until he tells us otherwise."  
"I believe it is the wrong decision," said Qui-Gon.  
"And I see no problem with it," countered Ben.  
Qui-Gon held Ben's gaze, each unwilling to concede. Qui-Gon contemplated warning Ben against giving into his emotions but Ben was far more likely to listen when they were alone.

"I fail to see how this is anybody's decision but mine," announced Emalda.  
The three Jedi turned to her in surprise. She had folded her arms across her chest and was speaking directly to Qui-Gon.  
"This is my ship and if I want to leave - or to request permission to leave - then that is my choice," she said, daring Qui-Gon to contradict her.  
"If you wish to do so, then that is your prerogative," said Qui-Gon. "But I strongly urge you to reconsider. Our participation in this mission is entirely voluntary."  
She paused, her alien eyes widening, as she realised his meaning. He felt her shock and sudden doubt.  
"If I have to go it alone, then that is what I will do," she said, not looking as confident as she sounded.  
"Now, wait a minute, wait a minute," said Ben. "There is no reason to do anything in haste..."  
"It seems to me we have reached an impasse," said Qui-Gon, folding his own arms across his chest.  
"It seems we have," agreed Emalda.

A flustered Ben looked helplessly between the two of them.  
"Masters?" said Obi-Wan tentatively. "There may be another option."  
Emalda looked surprised at the interruption, as if she had forgotten Obi-Wan was there. Ben looked hopeful. Qui-Gon uncrossed one of his arms and waved at Obi-Wan to elaborate.  
"If we were to offer some sort of guarantee that the ship would return, then Tylip might be more likely to grant us permission to leave," suggested Obi-Wan.  
"What kind of guarantee we should offer?" asked Ben. "I don't believe we have enough funds to make a cash deposit."  
"Offer to leave me and Anakin behind," said Obi-Wan. "Even Tylip has to see that as a motive for you to return."

Ben nodded but Qui-Gon looked unconvinced.  
"I'm not certain that would be safe," said Qui-Gon. "We still don't know who attacked Emalda or why. My feelings tell me that matter is far from resolved."  
"If Emalda is being targeted, then she is safest in our company," said Ben. "If she's going to this orbital station then at least one of us should accompany her - and I'll remind you that my lightsaber was destroyed."  
"True but...," began Qui-Gon.  
"Obi-Wan and Anakin can investigate the attack while they remain on Wefhuk," added Ben.

Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan. Anakin was unpredictable but Obi-Wan's judgement was usually sound.  
"Very well," said Qui-Gon unhappily. "But be cautious. We don't want any more problems with the Investigative Service."  
"We'll keep that in mind, Master," promised Obi-Wan. "I'll fill Anakin in on the plan."  
"I'll check on our delivery of supplies," said Emalda.  
Obi-Wan palmed open the door and held it open for Emalda. As she passed through the door, she looked challengingly at Qui-Gon. She looked like she had won a victory. Qui-Gon struggled to remind himself that he had not lost an argument. He had simply compromised. They would still be returning to Wefhuk, regardless of the success of their mission.

As Obi-Wan slipped out as well, Qui-Gon joined Ben at the pilot's console. Ben didn't look up from the controls. Qui-Gon reached out a tentative hand to rest on Ben's shoulder. Ben didn't react at all, though Qui-Gon could feel the small movement of muscles as Ben called up Investigator Tylip's contact details.  
"Two days," said Ben quietly. "You agreed we'd wait two days before abandoning the mission. Have you changed your mind?"  
"I am sorry," said Qui-Gon, squeezing the shoulder beneath his fingers. "I am only following my instincts."  
Ben didn't answer and Qui-Gon wasn't sure he'd been forgiven. Ben's finger was hovering over the comm button when Obi-Wan interrupted suddenly.  
"Masters, it looks like our supplies are being delivered," said Obi-Wan. "And it looks like Investigation Services are with them."  
Qui-Gon exchanged a glance with Ben, reassured that Ben looked as worried as he felt.  



	18. Anakin

In the cabin, Anakin pulled on his robe and ran a hand through his crumpled hair. Obi-Wan waited patiently by the door.  
"Obi?"  
The other Padawan turned to look at him, "Yes?"  
"Remind me later to tell you about my latest dream."  
"Did this one happen in or out of the bunk?"  
"I'm serious."  
"So am I. You fall out of that bunk again, we'll have to start checking you for a concussion."  
Obi-Wan reached out a hand and tried to ruffle Anakin's hair. Anakin slapped his hand away.  
"Let's get going all ready," said Anakin, slipping past Obi-Wan and out the door to the cargo bay.

Emalda was waiting for them, leaning against the wall with her arms folded. Anakin chose not to comment on the human-looking contacts she had adopted. The ramp had been lowered and the faint sounds of Qui-Gon and Ben's voices could be heard from outside.  
"Hey, I don't suppose you had a chance to talk to my Master about self-defence?" asked Anakin, remembering their earlier conversation.  
Emalda looked confused for a moment. Then her frown cleared as she realised what he was talking about.  
"Ah... no, I got distracted," said Emalda. "I'll talk to him later."  
"Maybe on the way to the station," said Anakin. "Obi tells me the plan is for me and him to stay behind."  
"You sure you don't mind?" said Emalda. "I didn't mean to dump you two into this."

Anakin flashed her a cocky grin. He grinned even wider when she returned a small, if uncertain, smile.  
"We'll have your attackers under lock and key before you return," said Anakin confidently, preening slightly. "No worries."  
"The two of us will be fine," agreed Obi-Wan, in complete seriousness. "Just take care of yourself. I have a feeling it won't be an easy run."  
Anakin rolled his eyes.  
"I'll keep an eye out," promised Emalda seriously, giving the pair of them a mock salute.  
The three of them walked down the ramp to where Qui-Gon and Ben were waiting. 

Some distance away, a landspeeder hauling a trailer full of supplies was moving steadily away from the Spaceport's main building, towards the _Fahren_. After only ten years, the Cahhbun Spaceport was already one of the oldest buildings on the newly colonised planet. The walls were built of the same local greenstone seen elsewhere in the city, with thick layers of mortar holding it all together. It was the only four-storey building in several kilometres and rows of landing platforms projected from it like spokes on a wheel. The _Fahren_ sat on one such raised stone platform, giving the Jedi a panoramic view of the city. Objectively, Anakin could appreciate that the view was something special. It was not, however, the soaring skyscrapers and the world unto itself that the Coruscant of Anakin's memory was.  
"The view's quite impressive," said Obi-Wan.  
Startled from his thoughts, Anakin looked to the other Padawan in surprise. Qui-Gon and Emalda were both stood rigidly with their arms folded, pointedly not looking at each other. Ben was tugging at his beard thoughtfully, lost in thought. Obi-Wan glanced at the awkward group and then back to Anakin.

"Oh...," said Anakin, trying to think of a way to break the silence. "I was thinking how low everything here is."  
He could see that wasn't the answer Obi-Wan was expecting and he frowned in confusion.  
"I mean, no skyscrapers," clarified Anakin.  
Obi-Wan made an 'oh' of understanding and stroked his chin thoughtfully. Anakin heroically resisted the urge to point out that he and Ben held identical postures.  
"Simplicity can have its own beauty," said Obi-Wan at last.  
"In the eye of the beholder," agreed Anakin.

"Well, here comes more trouble than we were expecting," said Ben, stepping forward to get a clearer view of the approaching landspeeder.  
"Is that... Investigator Tylip?" asked Obi-Wan.  
Anakin squinted at the approaching craft. The blue uniforms of the Spaceport delivery men were clearly visible huddled on the back of the craft. At the front, were a handful of red uniforms unmistakable as those of the Investigative Service. The rotund Kuhd in the front was indeed Investigator Tylip himself.  
"Doesn't he need to slow down?" asked Emalda, stepping up beside Anakin.  
"I'm sure he's about to...," began Anakin.  
Anakin broke off, dragging Emalda with him, and darted out of the way.

Tylip parked the landspeeder neatly within a foot of Qui-Gon's knees. Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes but still gave Tylip a nod of greeting. Anakin was furious, and his hand was halfway to his lightsaber before he relaxed. He began to doubt the wisdom of remaining on the same planet as Tylip. Ben would be disappointed if he returned to find Anakin under arrest for a homicide.  
"Nice little welcoming committee," observed Tylip.  
"We could see our supplies coming," said Ben. "We weren't expecting you to be accompanying them."  
Tylip's thin lips twisted into an unpleasant smile as he assessed the Jedi Knight. 

The two Spaceport delivery men hopped down from the trailer, and started carting the supplies up the ramp into the _Fahren's_ hold. Obi-Wan took a step towards them to help and Tylip abruptly blocked his way. Tylip waved a hand and his junior investigators hurried to help out the delivery men. The investigator with spiky hair brushed resolutely past Obi-Wan to reach the trailer. Obi-Wan ignored him and returned his attention to Tylip.  
"Leaving so soon?" asked Tylip. "I'm surprised you don't want to talk to me. I heard you talk to Spaceport Security."  
"We are in their Spaceport," pointed out Obi-Wan.  
"And allegedly working for the New Republic."  
"We're searching for my mother," said Emalda, stepping forward with brittle courage. "The New Republic wants her because she's a weapon scientist. If they're prepared to pay for it, I can't complain."  
Tylip regarded her with a raised eyebrow. Emalda folded her arms awkwardly but held her ground.

Anakin made to move forward but Qui-Gon waved him back. When he looked around, he saw that Qui-Gon also had a hand hooked into Ben's belt. Tylip's attention was focused on Emalda and Qui-Gon looked in no hurry to change that.  
"In fact," said Emalda, taking advantage of Tylip's expectant silence. "Spaceport Security reported they might have a lead on my mother."  
"Really?" asked Tylip. "Spaceport Security?"  
"Yes, they said she may have gone to Canemone Orbital Station; and I would like to go and look there."  
"Oh, I see," said Tylip, folding his arms and circling Emalda thoughtfully. "So, you'd like to leave then?"  
"I promise to return," said Emalda earnestly. "I'm not even sure how I can help your investigation anyway."

It seemed like Tylip's facial muscles couldn't decide which expression they wanted to assume first; smug, condescending, or triumphant. He looked towards Qui-Gon and Ben, as if waiting gleefully for them to press their case. Ben's expression was stony but he remained silent.  
"We've volunteered to stay behind," said Anakin. "In case you don't consider our word sufficient."  
Tylip paused, "We?"  
Obi-Wan stepped forward.  
"Anakin and myself," explained Obi-Wan.  
Tylip looked around at the three of them; Emalda hopeful, Obi-Wan steady, and Anakin doing his best to project trustworthy. Anakin could see the denial forming behind Tylip's eyes.

"Very well," said Tylip.  
Emalda blinked and exchanged a puzzled look with Obi-Wan and Anakin. Anakin was sure he must have misheard.  
"Sorry?" he asked cautiously.  
"I accept your offer," said Tylip, nodding as the last of the supplies were loaded onto the _Fahren_. "The rest of you can leave but these two will spend the duration of their stay in the company of my officers."  
"Okay," said Emalda, giving Tylip a tentative smile.  
Tylip didn't return it. The delivery men climbed onto the trailer and Tylip's men joined him. Anakin watched Tylip warily.  
"When are you planning to depart?" asked Tylip.  
"As soon as we have clearance?" suggested Emalda.  
"I'll see to it," said Tylip. "The two staying may accompany me back to Spaceport Administration."

Tylip waved his officers onto the landspeeder and looked expectantly at Anakin and Obi-Wan. Anakin exchanged a look with Obi-Wan, and then looked to Qui-Gon and Ben. Both were frowning and even Emalda looked unsettled.  
"Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon. "We won't be long."  
"Yes, Master," responded Obi-Wan automatically.  
Tylip's tongue flickered at the exchange and Anakin wondered whether Obi-Wan's use of the word 'master' had been a wise one. Ben seemed to have a similar thought.  
"Anakin," said Ben. "May... good fortune... be with you."  
"And also with you," said Anakin.

Anakin and Obi-Wan climbed onto the back of the now-empty trailer to sit cross-legged. Tylip pointedly ignored them but they received stern looks from the junior investigators. Spaceport Security gave them bored looks. Anakin gave an encouraging nod to Emalda before he climbed onto the trailer. The landspeeder started, and Anakin and Obi-Wan watched Emalda waving goodbye as the _Fahren_ grew more and more distant. 


	19. Emalda

In the _Fahren's_ cabin, Emalda sat curled up on her bunk with the unopened parcel in her lap. She was nervous but determined. Qui-Gon had volunteered to pilot the _Fahren_ and would be in the cockpit until their arrival at Canemone. Their clearance had been approved promptly and their take-off had been smooth. As soon as they had cleared the atmosphere, Ben joined her in the cabin as she'd been hoping. Ben leant against the doorframe, a faintly amused smile creeping into his expression as he caught sight of her on the top bunk. She smiled back even while she tightened her grip on the parcel. Her heart was thudding in her chest and she knew she had to start before she took the coward's way out.

"I have a confession to make," she said, managing to keep her voice steady.  
Looking intrigued, he tilted his head and waited expectantly. She panicked but it was too late to back out. She had no choice now which made it simultaneously better and worse.  
"Part of Tylip's interest in us may be my fault," she said. "I broke the law on Wefhuk - but I swear I don't know anything about these smugglers."  
It was her turn to wait. Ben's smile slid off and a mask of studied neutrality replaced it. She recognised that look from rooms of professional pazaak gamblers. Once they adopted their expression, they didn't allow good or bad fortune alter it lest they reveal their hands to their opponents. Emalda had a feeling Ben would be very good at it, if he ever chose to gamble.  
"Which law did you break?" he asked.  
His words were crisper than normal. It betrayed his tension far more than his facial expression ever did.

"To the people of Wefhuk, dance is a strictly religious expression. Professional dancing is forbidden," said Emalda, closing her eyes as she forced the words out. "As is paying money for anything connected with dancing."  
She didn't want to see the anger or disappointment on his face. Even worse would be to see no change at all, that he had never trusted her to begin with. She opened her eyes. He hadn't moved from the doorway, his entire body neutral. That told her he had a reaction to hide, which was something.  
"You couldn't have found time to dance while we were on the planet," said Ben.  
It was half question, half statement.  
"No, but there is a tailor on Wefhuk who makes dancing costumes of exceptional quality," said Emalda. "I heard about him when we were staying on Escopju and I ordered one before we landed."

He frowned until she held up the parcel in her hands. It seemed such a small thing and yet her hands were shaking.  
"This is it," said Emalda.  
"This is it?" said Ben.  
He stared hard at the little package in her hands.  
"And this is all?" he asked carefully. "You didn't break any other laws? Deal with any other criminals, other than to buy this? You didn't see anything or anyone who..."  
"No," she said. "I still don't know why anybody would try to mug me - unless they were after the costume, which I doubt."

He let out a breath and his body melted against the doorway.  
"You're relieved?" she asked, her voice cracking.  
"I was worried it might be far worse," said Ben.  
"You think I'm the kind of person who might do worse," she said.  
She couldn't look at him and twisted away to hide her face in her pillow. The silence, the utter lack of denial had her blinking back tears. She didn't realise he'd moved until she heard the bunk below take his weight. Then he was pulling himself up to sit beside her on the top bunk. It was a tight fit and she pulled her head out of the pillow to move over for him. She kept her eyes on the bunk opposite.

"I think," he said. "That our intentions and the kind of people we are, don't always determine the situations we find ourselves in. I believe good people can still make bad choices and end up in bad situations. Stars end, I believe good people can make good choices and _still_ end up in bad situations."  
"Is that the wisdom of your precious Jedi Order?" she asked.  
"No," said Ben. "that's the kind of wisdom that comes from a life spent travelling the galaxy."  
She dared to look at his face, "You're not mad?"

He rolled his eyes and she could have kissed him. If she tried it, they were both likely to fall out of the bunk; so she took his hand in hers instead. He looked distracted by the sight of their intertwined fingers and looked around the cabin, searching for a change of topic.  
"So, was this marvelous costume worth it?" he asked finally.  
This time it was his turn to keep his eyes on the bunk opposite but he didn't let go of her hand. She had to fight off a grin.  
"Don't know it yet," she shrugged, bumping against his shoulder. "I haven't gotten around to opening it yet. I was a little distracted by the whole mugging saga."  
"Oh, it's a saga now, is it?"  
"Definitely. One of epic proportions. There will be entire dances choreographed around the story."  
"And how will that go?"  
"Naïve young dancer, in over her head - rescued by a brave knight."

He laughed and she shifted close enough to rest her head on his shoulder. He leant back on his elbows to give her more space and she curled up against him, both of their legs dangling off the edge of the bunk. He was warm.  
"I still haven't had the chance to see you dance," he said quietly, gazing up at the roof of the bunk. "You promised me once, remember?"  
"I'd forgotten...," she said, looking at a word game her sister had sketched on the top of the bunk. "I'm afraid you've missed at least one opportunity."  
"You said you didn't dance on Wefhuk!"

"I didn't, don't worry," she said, patting his shoulder. "You remember three months ago, when we were caught in that interplanetary quarantine on Escopju? I found a bar whose regular dancers were trapped on the wrong side of the quarantine line. I danced for them when I could and they paid decently, considering I had no references. That was the money I used to buy the costume."  
"Oh good, I was wondering if you'd used Senate funds for that."  
Insulted, she slapped him lightly on the shoulder. Smirking, he turned his head to grin unrepentantly at her. 

Their heads were separated by less than the width of a hand. She tried not to be distracted by having his lips so close but then she was caught by his eyes. That was worse because she knew then that it wasn't a one-sided attraction. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. He leant forward and reached out a hand to cup her cheek, the pads of his fingers trailing along a cheekbone. Her skin tingling, she raised her own hand and let it rest against his shoulder. Then they both leaned forward to close the distance, lips meeting in a gentle kiss before withdrawing to gauge one another's reactions. Emalda didn't fight the ridiculous grin that took over her face with a life of its own. Ben chuckled deep in his throat and stroked her cheek with his thumb, his eyes bright. Emalda's nerves were singing and she struggled to make sense of her feelings. She was warm and invincible and aroused and relaxed and energised, all at the same time. As fate would have it, that point in time was when the bomb in the cargo bay went off.


	20. Qui-Gon

Qui-Gon frowned as the _Fahren_ dropped out of hyperspace a minute and forty seconds ahead of schedule. The stars that had been blurred to lines by their fast speed became separate dots again. A light began flashing in the cockpit and a message appeared on a readout screen in unfamiliar Ekash letters. The _Fahren's_ late designer had been somewhat eccentric and ambitious, and had no qualms about writing all the ship's readouts in her local and exceptionally rare dialect, Jalul. With the help of Emalda and a basic translation program most ship systems had been translated into Basic but clearly this was one system they'd missed. He was reaching for the comm system when he discovered what warning the ship was flashing at him.

The bomb in the cargo bay exploded. The chair and floor underneath Qui-Gon vibrated with the shock. He grabbed on tight to the armrests, as safety belts whipped out of hidden compartments in the chair and lashed him in place. The belt ends hit the metal on the opposite side of the chair and locked in place with solid clunks. As the vibrations died down, so did the cockpit lighting. The backup systems didn't activate. Qui-Gon was alone in the darkness, pinned to a chair, with only the sound of his own breathing. Through the viewscreen he could see an extensive starscape, in which nothing was moving. 

Qui-Gon looked for shadows passing in front of stars that might indicate a planet was nearby. He thought he might have seen a flicker or two but it was impossible to know if they had even reached the correct planetary system without the navicomputer's records. Qui-Gon reached out a hand into the darkness, bumping his fingers into the control console. He felt his way up the controls by touch and flipped a series of switches he hoped was the backup power supply. A shrill alarm sounded and six new lights on the control panel lit up. The cockpit's emergency lighting flickered on, casting the entire room in eerie purple light that deepened the shadows. The alarm continued to sound at a painfully high pitch and undecipherable data began to scroll across the readout screens.

Qui-Gon couldn't rise from the chair but he could swivel it. He turned to check the doors that led back into the cargo bay. Two air-tight bulkheads had slid down from the ceiling to reinforce the doors, protecting Qui-Gon but cutting him off from the others. He swivelled back to the controls and tried to turn off the alarm. The alarm continued but the sublight engines fired unexpectedly and unevenly. The stars in the viewscreen began to rotate clockwise before he managed to turn it off again. The ship continued to roll gently. The inertial dampeners were functioning well enough to protect the ship's occupants from the sensation of movement but he couldn't watch the spinning stars for long without feeling queasy.

He focused on the controls again and found the internal comm system, broadcasting throughout the ship.  
"Ben, are you there?" he called. "There's been some kind of explosion."  
The comm system blinked at him but there was no response.  
"Emalda, this is Qui-Gon. Please respond."  
He pulled his commlink out of his pocket and repeated the message. There was still no answer. He couldn't tell whether the comm system was malfunctioning or whether Ben and Emalda were in no condition to respond. He shut his eyes against the rolling starscape, ignoring the piercing shriek of the alarm, and reach for Ben's presence in the Force.

A flush of emotion twisted in Qui-Gon's stomach and he seized the armrests with a white-knuckled grip. He tried to calm himself but the feeling eluded his attempts, as if he was striking a rubber ball that kept bouncing away from his fist. His own emotions had never felt so inaccessible to him, which was his first clue. It wasn't his own fear and frustration he was sensing. He could feel both Ben and Emalda but couldn't distinguish which emotions were which. He focused on it and did his best to project a feeling of calm. He must have succeeded because the fear faded and with it the knot in Qui-Gon's stomach. The sensation was replaced with... amusement?

Reassured, Qui-Gon turned back to the problem at hand. He couldn't tell the exact nature of the damage done to the cargo bay but the _Fahren's_ main computer, engines and power systems all seem to have been affected. The most immediate problem was that the computer was no longer translating its readouts into a language Qui-Gon could understand. Emalda would have been able to help but he had no way to communicate with her. The internal comm system was damaged and there was no response on the commlinks. 

Qui-Gon moved to the controls for the external comm system and pressed a sequence of switches that should allow him to transmit. More Ekash writing flashed across the screen but he couldn't be sure he was transmitting properly.  
"Mayday, mayday," he said. "This is the space vessel _Fahren_. There's been an explosion on board and we are in need of assistance. Repeat; mayday, mayday..."  
He repeated the message at least four time, unable to tell if the signal was getting anywhere.

There was a thud as an object bounced off the viewscreen. One of the crates from the cargo bay drifted gently against the front of the ship. That meant that the cargo bay was open to space - any supplies not nailed down had just been lost. Qui-Gon had a sinking feeling that that would include some of the physical currency they had withdrawn from their New Republic account.  
"Wonderful," said Qui-Gon to himself.  
He tried to lean forward but was caught by the safety belts. He fumbled around the base of the belts but couldn't figure out how to release them. He wasn't quite desperate enough to resort to his lightsaber just yet. He leant forward on his elbows to study the controls again.

He couldn't use the hyperdrive without the navicomputer and he wasn't sure that reactivating the sublight engines was a good idea. The ship was still spinning from his first attempt. It was a pity that Anakin and his technical expertise had been left behind on the Wefhuk. Two new lights started flashing on the console and new data appeared on the readout. This time Qui-Gon recognised two words, one because he was familiar with it and the other because it wasn't a word from the Ekash language at all; _Fahren_ and _Armistice_. He reached for the external comm system.

"This is the vessel _Fahren_. We are in need of assistance, is anybody out there?"  
There was a high pitched whine and then a distorted voice entered the cockpit.  
 _" __Fahren _, this is the_ Armistice _. What kind of assistance do you require?"__  
"There has been an explosion onboard. The hull's breached and we've lost engines. Can you tow us to safety?"  
 _"_ Fahren _, this is_ Armistice _. We can tow you as far as_ Canemone _but no further."_  
"That would be more than acceptable," said Qui-Gon.  
Qui-Gon reached down to fiddle with the safety belts, wondering if it was worth resorting to his lightsaber.  
"Fahren, _can you halt your spinning for us?"_  
"I'm afraid not. Our sublight engines are damaged. I don't want to risk re-igniting them."  
"Alright, we'll see what we can do."

Qui-Gon waited, searching the viewscreen. There was nothing aside from the spinning stars. He had no instruments to tell him how far away the _Armistice_ might be and he wasn't even sure what kind of ship it was. Four muffled clangs echoed through the _Fahren's_ walls and Qui-Gon's stomach lurched as the ship's spin was abruptly stabilised. He peered out through the viewscreen but still could see nothing. As he watched, the edge of a hangar door appeared at the top of his screen. The door descended down the screen. There was nothing for Qui-Gon to do but watch as the _Fahren_ was completely enclosed inside the hold of a far larger ship.

"Not exactly the tow I was expecting," Qui-Gon said to the empty cockpit. "But better than nothing."  
He now had the interesting view of the closed hangar doors - which told him the _Fahren_ had been taken into an older, heavily built ship. The doors were built to be functional and tough enough to take a serious bombardment but lacked a sense of military precision. Qui-Gon's overall impression was of a workhorse rather than a warship. 

There was a rush of whistling air as the hold rapidly re-pressurised. The outside of the viewscreen fogged up, obscuring Qui-Gon's view of the hold. There was a metallic clunk and then an indistinct shadow climbed up to peer through the viewscreen from the outside. Qui-Gon leaned forward and the figure must have noticed the movement, because it cleared away the condensation. A stocky Kuhd in blue overalls waved cheerfully at him. The Jedi Master waved back, already questioning the wisdom of his decision. 


	21. Anakin

A starfighter bearing the badge of the Wefhuk Investigative Service passed by the windows of the Spaceport Administration building. Anakin frowned and swiveled in his seat to face their escort, Investigator Ranun. Ranun was not as tall as Anakin but he was stockier. His silver hair was slicked into soft spikes and he looked around him with a wide-eyed expression. Combined with his overstarched and ill-fitting uniform it gave the impression of child-like innocence, with a blaster at it's side.  
"Where is Investigator Tylip going?" asked Anakin.  
Ranun ignored him. Anakin kept his attention on Ranun while Obi-Wan leaned forward to peer out through the window.  
"I thought he was in the middle of an important investigation," said Anakin, knowing perfectly well that their escort had been instructed not to talk to them. "Why is he leaving?"

The two young Jedi were waiting in a small courtyard at a long table with Ranun standing at attention at one of the arched entrances. Three of the entrances opened into other corridors of the building but the fourth overlooked the wide expanse of the Spaceport. Anakin and Obi-Wan had shifted their chairs to watch the _Fahren's_ departure. They hadn't moved since and Ranun hadn't spoken a word in that time.  
"Sure is a talkative sort of fellow," observed Obi-Wan dryly, glancing at Ranun before turning back to watch as a freighter took off.  
"Can't shut him up," agreed Anakin. "It's embarrassing."  
Ranun turned to frown at them, the first change in facial expression they'd witnessed. Anakin laid a hand over his heart and seized Obi-Wan's hand in mock horror.  
"Obi! Star's end, I think he can hear us..."

Ranun grinned before he could help himself. Then he looked mortified and turned to face the wall. Once he'd regained his humourless expression, he turned back only to be confronted by Anakin's cockiest grin. Ranun's lip twitched and he seemed glad when his commlink sounded, distracting him. He slipped out into the corridor to answer it, leaving the two young men alone.  
"Well," said Anakin. "I don't think we're going to be able to do much in the way of investigation while we're locked in here."  
"This room doesn't have any doors to lock."  
"Figure of speech, Obi." Obi-Wan was gearing up to respond in detail when Ranun appeared. He was still eying them warily.

"Come to talk our ears off, again?" asked Anakin pleasantly.  
"Not me - Investigator Irus," said Ranun. "Her paralysis has faded to the point where she can talk again. And she wants to talk to _you_."  
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and turned to Anakin.  
"She's the Investigator who nearly hit me with her swoop," said Anakin. "She was paralysed protecting Emalda."  
"Ah. Well, in that case, we shouldn't keep the lady waiting."

Ranun directed them towards a speeder waiting out the front of the building. Ranun climbed behind the controls and Obi-Wan settled into the seat beside him. Ranun craned his neck to watch Anakin slide into the back seat. Anakin opened his palms and held them out in front of him.  
"Nothing up my sleeves," promised Anakin.  
Ranun scowled and took off into the morning streets of Wefhuk. Anakin rolled his eyes at Ranun's back and Obi-Wan hid a smile behind his back.

The markets were bustling and crowded, pedestrians spilling out onto the streets. The locals were gathered on street corners, gossiping and lingering even when the sensor platforms beeped for them to cross. A few spared a glance for the Investigative Service speeder but they were looks of idle curiosity. There was no malice there - the city seemed content to amble on hurriedly.  
"Qui-Gon likes it here," said Obi-Wan thoughtfully.  
"It makes me twitch," shrugged Anakin, leaning forward onto the back of Obi-Wan's seat.  
"Too slow for you," agreed Obi-Wan, with a smile.

Anakin didn't smile back but patted Obi-Wan on the shoulder to show he wasn't upset. He settled back into his seat and watched the stone fragment road fly past beneath the speeder. The stones were irregular, tumbled together with no particular plan or design but he couldn't help still looking for a pattern anyway. It was like looking at the stars streaking past in hyperspace. A flash of unease washed through Anakin and he grabbed the back of the seat in front of him to steady himself. Cold dread plunged straight to his stomach and he shivered. It took him a moment to realise that they'd reached their destination and Obi-Wan was holding his arm.  
"What's wrong with you?" asked Ranun suspiciously.  
"Nothing," said Anakin, releasing the seat and climbing out of the speeder. "Just a bit of motion sickness."  
Obi-Wan looked concerned but kept his tongue in front of Ranun.

"So," said Obi-Wan, drawing Ranun's attention. "Do you know which room Investigator Irus is in?"  
Anakin followed the other two slowly, the feeling fading as he focused on the stones under his feet. The stones felt refreshingly real, each individual fragment shifting in different directions under his weight. Yet for all the movement of the individual stones, they still formed a stable ground - he was sure there was a metaphor in that somewhere.

Anakin found himself entering the MedCentre yet again, Ranun heading to the main desk to check in with his superiors. He carefully kept the two young Jedi in sight but Obi-Wan used the opportunity to question Anakin.  
"What was that?" asked Obi-Wan.  
"Something serious," said Anakin. "Something's happened. I think we need to check in with the _Fahren_ right now."  
"We can't do that without letting Ranun know something's wrong," said Obi-Wan. "Do you want me to talk to Irus by myself?"  
Anakin frowned, as Ranun started towards them.  
"We'll talk to Irus for five minutes," said Anakin hurriedly. "Any longer and I'll say I'm not feeling well."

Ranun reached them just as they both fell silent.  
"This way, gentlemen," he said, leading them to the lifts.  
When they reached the right floor, it wasn't hard to see their destination. It was the only hospital room with the armed guard outside the door. Ranun motioned for them to wait while he ducked into the room. He was out again in moments, gesturing for the two Jedi to enter. Anakin led the way with Ranun shutting the door behind Obi-Wan.

The Phindian Investigator was lying on a hospital bed, a blanket drawn up to her chest and her arms lying motionless across her stomach. She moved her head as they came in but otherwise remained motionless. Medical equipment hummed quietly, reflecting the patient's stable condition. There were no windows in the small room but a bank of lights ran around the top of the walls. The two end tables were full of messages and holograms wishing her a speedy recovering.  
"Investigator Irus," said Anakin, bowing politely. "Hello again. May I introduce my friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi?"  
"Investigator," said Obi-Wan, bowing.

Irus smiled gently at them, her eyes lingering on Obi-Wan.  
"Please, pull up a chair," said Irus, her voice weak. "We have things to discuss."  
Anakin located two of the visitors chairs and passed one to Obi-Wan.  
"You wanted to see us?" asked Anakin.  
"That is so," said Irus, her eyes bright. "Because there is something I want to tell you."  
"And what is that?"  
"I know who you are."


	22. Emalda

"...and he said, I know, it's driving me nuts!"  
Ben laughed against her knee, his amusement genuine and his beard tickling her hand where it rested on the mattress. She wished she was in a less awkward position so she could see his face clearly. Her shoulders had been jammed into one end of the bunk with her head wedged tightly into the corner. Her legs were folded up and one of Ben's hands had been pinned between her ankle and the glass screen that had slammed down to separate the bunk from the rapidly depressurising cabin. Ben was curled up behind her in a bunk designed to accommodate a single person. They could hear the air being recycled through a wheezing pump, though there was no telling how effective it was or how long it would last. She knew that without the screen they probably would have been killed much earlier but after forty minutes her muscles were arching and her gratitude to her sister's ship design had faded; the bunk was starting to resemble a coffin rather than a life pod.

"Are there any more?" he asked.  
She tried moving her neck around to see more of her sister's scribblings.  
"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not that I can read from here."  
"Are there any in the other bunks?"  
"Not that I've seen. This was the only one."  
"I wondered why you wanted this one so particularly."  
"Bet you thought it was because of you, huh?"  
Ben didn't answer.

Emalda sighed and wished she could turn her head enough to see more than just the bunk wall.  
"Are you sure Qui-Gon's alright?" she asked, for the fourth time.  
"Trust me. He's fine. I can sense it."  
"Well, I've managed to provide forty minutes of entertainment. I say the next forty minutes is up to you."  
"I'm not particularly good at telling jokes - especially not your kind of jokes."  
She manoeuvred one of her hands around far enough to flick him on the nose.  
" _My_ kind of jokes? I ought to be mortally offended," she teased. "Are you saying there's something wrong with those jokes?"  
"Never mind about the jokes."  
"Jokes is general or just _my_ kind?"  
"Forget the jokes! No more jokes. How about I tell you a story instead?"  
"Go on, then."

She hoped that her growing headache was being caused by the discomfort of her position rather than their oxygen running out. She didn't know if the air pump was capable of sustaining two people when the bunk was only intended for one. Ben shifted around behind her.  
"Have I told you about the time Anakin snuck out of the Temple to join an illegal garbage pit race?" asked Ben.  
"No. How do you race garbage pits?" Emalda asked teasingly.  
He slapped her lightly on the rear with his free hand.  
"Sorry," she said. "Do go on."  
"I haven't started yet."  
"Well?"  
"Well... by the time I met I met him, when he was about nine years old, he was already an exceptional pilot. He used to be a podracer. Have you heard of pod racing?"  
"I didn't think humans were capable of it."

Ben shifted again, accidentally elbowing her.  
"Sorry. What was I...? Pod racing. Normally humans don't have the reflexes for it - the professional circuit is just too fast. It's also illegal but a lot of blind eyes get turned, especially in the outer rim when there's a lot of money involved."  
"A Jedi racing illegally?"  
She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. Ben shifted again and this time she wasn't sure the elbow was accidental. She would have stuck out her tongue if she thought he could see it.  
"He wasn't a Jedi at the time. That's just what he was doing when we met him."  
"We?"  
"Master Qui-Gon and I."  
"And Qui-Gon didn't report him for racing illegally?"

He sighed loudly. She didn't bother to restrain her grin since she knew he couldn't see it. He shifted again.  
"Do you have enough room for your parcel up there?" he asked. "Only it keeps digging into my ribs."  
"Pass it here."  
The parcel was wriggled through the space between her ankles. She grabbed it with one hand and tucked it against her chest.  
"Anyway, Anakin - illegal racing when he was young. Then he was brought to live in the Jedi temple. Now, the Jedi Temple is a wonderful place but it's not exactly brimming with illegal activity."  
"So, he went looking for trouble?" she asked, tugging at the cords around her parcel.  
"You have no idea."

Ben chuckled warmly and his amusement was contagious.  
"By the time that boy was twelve," continued Ben. "I knew every illegal, dangerous or disreputable establishment within a thousand kilometre radius of the Temple."  
"Your Temple was on a heavily populated planet?"  
Ben paused and Emalda swallowed guiltily. She wished she could see his face and see whether he had been upset by mention of the place he had once called home.  
"He sounds like a right handful," Emalda prompted him, hesitantly.  
"He can be," said Ben wistfully. "Anakin has always been precocious."

Ben subsided into silence and Emalda again wished she could see his face. She pulled her parcel open, manoeuvring the paper by touch until she could see it clearly. She frowned and reached out to touch, just to confirm what she was seeing.  
"Ben?"  
"Hmm?"  
"I think I know why they tried to mug me."  
Without thinking, Ben tried to raise his head to look at her. His head bumped against the glass instead and he huffed in frustration.  
"Inquiring minds would like to know why," he said at last.  
"They weren't after me," said Emalda, her stomach sinking. "They were after the jade statues they'd stashed in my costume."

Ben was silent for a moment.  
"You mean the costume you _smuggled_ past customs and onto the ship?"  
Wincing, she passed a palm-sized sphere down to him. The stone was surprisingly smooth in her hands, contrasting with the warmth of Ben's fingers as he took the object from her.  
"This could be a problem," said Ben gravely. "Any idea who could have slipped these into the parcel?"  
"I didn't have any dealings with thieves, just a tailor!" she snapped.  
If there had been enough space to cross her arms and glower at him, she would have.

"On Wefhuk, the tailors would know the local laws," said Ben firmly. "They knowingly broke the law to make and sell you this. You had contact with criminals - even if you don't consider the laws they broke to be particularly serious or just. Now, _who_ gave you the parcel?"  
She sighed, "I was given the parcel by a droid at a bar."  
"Was the droid alone?"  
"I spoke to it alone but I think both the bartenders were in on it."  
"Descriptions?"  
"One human, one twilek," said Emalda, straining her memory and hoping she wouldn't be expected to provide more detail. "The human was named... Chara Polli, and the scrambled little droid was W3-D7. I don't know the Twilek's name."

"Did you talk for long? How many times did you meet?" asked Ben, firing off the questions with such calm efficiency that she was forcibly reminded that Ben was a professional.  
"Only once and only long enough for Chara to point me towards the droid. The bar was crowded and she wasn't feeling in a chatty mood."  
She regretted now that she hadn't paid more attention at the time.  
"Do you remember anything special about the droid? Was it modified in any way?"  
Emalda paused. She didn't see that the droid would be very important, since they could so easily be sold, salvaged or memory wiped.

"I don't know," she said testily. "It was serving droid. It had one wheel."  
"What makes you say it was scrambled?"  
"It kept repeating itself. It wasn't up to very complicated conversation."  
He laid a hand on her leg, "Are you sure?"  
"What do you mean, am I sure? Yes, the droid's logic circuits were about as crossed as they come!"  
"That's not good," he said unhappily.

He didn't continue and she had no choice but to ask.  
"Why not?"  
"Because I've personally dealt with the WA-7, which was a much older precursor to the W3 series," he said quietly. "If that W3 droid is anything less than a competent server, and couldn't even carry on a conversation normally, then it's likely that its processing power has been used for other things."  
"Oh. Like what?"  
"Slicing into computers and alarm systems, for a start."  
She digested that for a moment before conceding, "No. That's not good. Not good at all."


	23. Qui-Gon

Sitting cross-legged, Qui-Gon leant against a wall in the _Fahren's_ cockpit. A shower of sparks cascaded through the bulkhead doors as the _Armistice's_ crew worked to free him. It had occurred to Qui-Gon that he could have used his lightsabre but the work had already begun and he still wasn't sure of the extent of the damage to the _Fahren's_ systems. It was easier to leave the task to others. Occasionally, a stocky Kuhd in blue overalls would appear outside the viewscreen to wave encouragingly at him. Qui-Gon waved back serenely, going over the sequence of events in his head. Had there been a mechanical failure or had something more sinister happened? Uncharacteristically, Qui-Gon's first instinct was to suspect foul play.

The bulkhead door crashed to the ground, revealing the four Kuhd workers who had come to his rescue. All were dressed in the same blue overalls.  
"Hello," said one, tongue flickering out to tap the end of his nose. "You are lucky man."  
"I would not be so fortunate if you had not stopped to help," smiled Qui-Gon, pulling himself to his feet. "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn."  
"Poppi," said the Kuhd, extending a calloused hand for Qui-Gon to shake.  
Poppi glanced around the cockpit as they shook, only half his attention on Qui-Gon.

"You are going _Canemone_ station?" asked Poppi.  
"Yes," said Qui-Gon. "We are expected."  
"We?" hesitated Poppi. "There were others?"  
With a start, Qui-Gon realised why Poppi was hesitant.  
"There were no casualties, fortunately," said Qui-Gon. "But there were two others onboard. I believe they were in the sleeping cabin."  
Poppi looked at Qui-Gon sadly, "I'm afraid cabin failed to seal. The room depressurised."  
It was Qui-Gon's turn to hesitate, "Are you certain?"  
Poppi nodded.  
"I will come and see for myself," said Qui-Gon briskly, striding past Poppi.

He checked at the sight of the _Fahren's_ cargo bay, illuminated by several lights that the _Armistice's_ crew had brought along to help them work at opening the cockpit door. Although not as well lit as it normally was, Qui-Gon was able to see that the entire room was eerily empty, as anything not bolted down had been sucked out into space. The floor was dented outwards and the walls were bowed and scored by debris. A massive hole had been ripped in the roof of the ship, the hull of the _Armistice_ visible through it. At the front of the bay the damage seemed to have been channeled upwards and outwards, with the walls mostly intact. However, at the rear at the cargo bay the blast had been lower and the cabin door was completely blown apart. Parts of the wall were still standing but the door frame itself was missing, blasted into the sleeping cabin behind.

The Kuhd watched nervously as Qui-Gon crossed the cargo bay with smooth strides. He paused at the entrance to the sleeping cabin, looking at the room in silence. The lights of the cargo bay reached past him to illuminate the scene before him. The flames had died before reaching the room. Metal and debris from the cargo bay littered the floor. The bedding from one of the bunks had been speared rather dramatically to the central column. Shrapnel had given the column (and its two middle bunks) the appearance of a cheese grater.  
"We did not want to disturb...," said Poppi quietly, at Qui-Gon's shoulder. "In case there were bodies."

The bunks on the right of the cabin (including Qui-Gon's own) had been stripped of their bedding in the sudden de-pressurisation of the cabin. At first Qui-Gon assumed that the bunks on the left side of the room had been filled or blocked off with debris. At a second glance, he realised that both bunks had been sealed with an opaque screen. The screen sealing off the lower bunk had been cracked by the impact of the cabin's missing doorframe. The screen of the top bunk had been frosted over by condensation after the sudden re-pressurisation of the cabin. Qui-Gon stepped gingerly over the debris to the top bunk and wiped at the condensation with his sleeve. 

The light was poor, and Qui-Gon's own reflection made it difficult to see through the screen. Yet there was a clear hand, attached to a forearm in a white tunic. Qui-Gon cleared a little more of the condensation until he could see that the hand was pinned against the screen by an ankle in a long leather boot. Qui-Gon tapped on the screen and the hand on the inside tapped back in silence. Qui-Gon smiled to himself, turning to Poppi who had come to stand beside him.  
"Sound proof screen," explained Qui-Gon.  
"Oh," said Poppi, looking sheepish.  
"I didn't know we had screens, though," said Qui-Gon. "I don't know how to open them."  
"Oh!" said Poppi, more enthusiastically. "We can help with _that_."

The Kudh cheered up considerably and headed towards the cargo bay to get help. Qui-Gon busied himself with clearing off the rest of the condensation. Behind him, Kuhd workers were bringing in artificial lights to the cabin. Ben's face appeared, pressed uncomfortably against Emalda's knee. Ben looked tired but returned Qui-Gon's smile easily enough. Emalda's head was out of sight in a corner of the bunk but the twitching of her fingers reassured Qui-Gon that she was alive. It was a good thing that both of them were far smaller than Qui-Gon, who struggled to fit into a bunk by himself.

Poppi appeared briskly at Qui-Gon's side.  
"Not long," said Poppi.  
Another Kuhd in overalls appeared at the cabin entrance, tripping noisily on a piece of debris and nearly dropping the incendiary torch he was carrying.  
"No, no, no," snapped Poppi irritably, flapping his hands. "Get the other torch. Do you want to burn the people?"  
The other Kuhd's tongue flickered out nervously before he turned and scurried back out of the room. Poppi turned to Qui-Gon, rolling his eyes and settling his hands on his waist.  
"New apprentice," explained Poppi.  
"I know the feeling," Qui-Gon assured him. "I'm sure he'll improve with time."  
"Hmm," said Poppi. "But will I be strangling him before then?"  
"Students teach their teachers patience."

While nodding in agreement, Poppi glanced at Ben and Emalda for the first time since Qui-Gon had cleared the rest of the condensation.  
"Your two friends don't have lot of room," said Poppi. "Why the two in one bunk?"  
"All the other screens were either damaged or failed to activate," said Qui-Gon, avoiding the question. "They had few other options."  
Poppi's tongue flickered out to taste Qui-Gon's smell before snapping back inside his mouth as if scorched.  
"So, you have something flammable in cargo bay?" asked Poppi hurriedly, changing the subject. "Is a big, big hole."  
"No," said Qui-Gon. "I don't think this was an accident."

"If you come from Wefhuk, you should contact Wefhuk Investigative Service," said Poppi. "They can find out who is playing foul with your ship."  
Qui-Gon smiled grimly, "You can be certain I will be talking to them the moment I return to Wefhuk."  
"One of their starfighters dropped out of hyperspace just after we pulled you onboard," said Poppi. "Maybe you can talk to that officer?"  
Qui-Gon fell silent, stepping aside as Poppi's new apprentice returned with a safer torch to cut open the screen. Poppi started off giving his apprentice directions but soon worriedly took over the task himself. Qui-Gon waited uneasily, determined to get to the bottom of the explosion.


	24. Anakin

Anakin frowned, exhanging a slightly worried look with Obi-Wan.  
"You know who we are?" he repeated.  
Irus smiled, moving her head weakly on the pillow.  
"I am Phindian," said Irus. "I have not been since I was as a child but my homeworld is Phindar. Do you know Phindar?"  
"No," said Anakin. "I'm not familiar with it."  
"I know it," said Obi-Wan, sounding reluctant to admit it.  
"You know Phindar," said Irus happily, her eyes shining. "And Phindar knows you."  
Anakin shifted in his seat, glancing between the other two.  
"I'm afraid you may have to explain a little," said Anakin. "Your planet knows us?"  
"For centuries, Phindar's history records that the Syndicat ruled Phindar," explained Irus. "The Syndicat were the worst of criminal pond-scum. No, not so. They were less than pond-scum."

Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose at her description but nodded along in agreement.  
"Phindar's history records the Syndicat as being the worst thing to happen to Phindar in all its history - except maybe for the time of the Empire," said Irus. "But do you know why the Syndicat fell?"  
"A group of Phindian rebels rose up and overthrew the Syndicat," said Obi-Wan. "They then arranged for democratic elections to take place."  
"Phindar's history tells that the democracy was good and the Phindians were happy until the Empire came," said Irus. "With thanks to the rebels. _But_ history also tells that the rebels had help from two Jedi. Are their names known to you?"  
"They are," said Obi-Wan, his face falling.  
"History records their names as Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi," said Irus happily. "When you told Investigator Tylip your names, I thought you lied but when I saw your lightsabres in the alleyway? I knew you were true Jedi."

Irus' gaze was locked onto Obi-Wan adoringly. Obi-Wan averted his gaze as Anakin did his best to hide his amusement at his friend's embarrassment. It was at least comforting to know that not all the deeds of the Jedi had been forgotten.  
"The Obi-Wan Kenobi referred to in your history was my grandfather," lied Obi-Wan smoothly. "Obviously, it was before I could have been born."  
"You must be honoured to have such a heroic grandfather," said Irus, her enthusiasm undimmed. "And you follow in his footsteps well."  
"We are trying to keep the fact that we're Jedi a secret," said Obi-Wan. "We understand that the politics here..."  
"Say nothing further," said Irus. "I have spoken to no one and I shall keep your truths safe."  
Obi-Wan nodded and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Anakin took pity on his fellow Padawan and changed the subject.  
"This was the reason you asked to see us?" asked Anakin, leaning back in his chair.  
"Not so, not entirely," said Irus. "Rather it was both to meet you and to make sure you had not yet departed Wefhuk. I am glad to see you have not."  
"Well, we haven't," said Anakin. "But our Masters have gone to _Canemone_ Station. They will return soon. I assume you'd like to talk to Master Qui-Gon as well..."

Irus had frozen, her large eyes widening in horror as she stared at Anakin. Anakin trailed off with a sinking feeling in his stomach.  
"Is something wrong?" asked Obi-Wan, concerned.  
"Your ship has already departed?" she questioned weakly. "How long ago?"  
"A couple of hours," said Anakin. "Why is it important?"  
Irus looked away from them, gazing instead at the ceiling. She bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes, muttering to herself. When Anakin recognised some of her words as a prayer for safe passage, he shot to his feet so fast that he knocked his chair over.  
"Investigator Irus," said Anakin sharply. "What's wrong? Tell us."

She opened both eyes and flinched from Anakin's angry expression. Obi-Wan reached out to lay a restraining hand on Anakin's arm even as he caught Irus' gaze. Anakin briefly contemplated throwing off Obi-Wan's hand.  
"Investigator Irus," said Obi-Wan quietly. "Our Masters are on that ship. They are the closest thing we have to family. _Please_ , tell us what's wrong."  
Irus' eyes switched to Obi-Wan, softening. She raised a shaking hand to take Obi-Wan's free hand.  
"I am sorry," she said. "I would have said sooner but I thought you were all still here. All still safe."  
"Safe from what?" interrupted Anakin.

She ignored him, all her attention on Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan's grip on Anakin's arm tightened but he didn't turn to look at his fellow Padawan.  
"Investigator Tylip is not a bad man," she began.  
Anakin snorted disparagingly.  
"No, I do not lie about this. Tylip is a good man but times have been hard," said Irus earnestly. "This smuggling ring has been eluding us for some time now. They have hurt people and even killed people. Their last raid killed a security guard who was a very close friend of Tylip, the two were like brothers."  
"And Tylip suspects us of being involved," said Obi-Wan.

"Sometimes...," began Irus.  
She paused and tried again.  
"The New Republic is not always loved by the people of Wefhuk. Many settlers deliberately moved here to be at the edge of the Republic's influence," explained Irus. "So when Imperial agents contacted Tylip, he was prepared to at least listen to what they say."  
"The Empire isn't exactly known for being fond of the Jedi," said Obi-Wan.  
"No," said Anakin, still struggling to control his temper. "I wouldn't call a massacre good evidence for fondness."

Irus turned her large, watery eyes on Anakin. There was pity in them.  
"Why did the Imperial agents contact Tylip?" asked Obi-Wan. "What did they want?"  
"They said they had information that the New Republic was involved with the smugglers," said Irus. "And they claimed that your ship was not only part of it but had been dispatched to oversee the operation. They said that if anybody was arrested, the Republic would see that they escaped punishment. Normally, Tylip knows not to believe what they tell him."  
"But he was angry?" guessed Obi-Wan.  
"He was hurt, and grieving," said Irus. "I have never seen him this angry. If he believes you are responsible for killing his citizens and that justice won't be done... I am afraid he will take the law into his own hands."  
"Or might already have done so," snapped Anakin.  
He turned on his heel and swept from the room.

As the door slammed open, Ranun and the two guards jumped in alarm. They stood there looking wide-eyed as Anakin stalked out of the room. It took a moment but Ranun eventually jolted into action, pursuing Anakin down the corridor.  
"Wait!" demanded Ranun. "Where are you going? Where is the other one?"  
Ranun managed to catch one of Anakin's arms, nearly toppling the young Jedi. Anakin's head snapped around angrily enough to scare Ranun into backing up several steps. However, it was there that Ranun stood his ground and reached for his weapon. The two room guards reached for their weapons as well.

"Enough!" commanded a voice. "This isn't helping."  
Involuntarily, Ranun and Anakin both turned to look at Obi-Wan.  
"Anakin, where are you going? Have you forgotten that we gave our word to stay on Wefhuk?"  
"I am going to find a long-range transmitter," said Anakin slowly, as if speaking to a small child. "So I can contact the _Fahren_. There should be one downstairs in reception that I can use."  
"I assure you, he means no harm," said Obi-Wan calmly, turning to Ranun. "He simply has to make an urgent call. I'm sure he won't mind if you accompany him."  
"I... as long as he doesn't go anywhere else," agreed Ranun.

Obi-Wan paused and glanced back at Investigator Irus' room uncertainly.  
"Give me a minute," said Obi-Wan quietly. "Then I'll come with you."  
"Give you a minute? We're all out of minutes," snapped Anakin angrily. "Don't you get that everybody else is gone? They are _all_ we have left. Maybe you don't care that much about Qui-Gon but Ben is like a father to _me_."  
The hurt and fury flashed so briefly across Obi-Wan's face that Anakin may well have imagined them. He blinked and the only sign that anything was different was the blandness of Obi-Wan's expression. There was no accusation in those blue eyes and that only made Anakin feel worse.

"Qui-Gon's life may not mean much to you," said Obi-Wan, his words as crisp and even as Anakin had ever heard them. "But I assure you it means the universe to me. So, while you are running off on a selfish, childish impulse, I'll be here getting the answers to questions you haven't even had the patience to think of yet."  
"Obi-Wan, I didn't... I'm s-"  
"You'd better get a move on, don't you think?" asked Obi-Wan, striding back into Irus' room.


	25. Emalda

Emalda's head was aching by the time the mechanics managed to finish cutting through the screen. Closing her eyes had eased the worst of it and Ben had been quiet for nearly twenty minutes. She didn't actually feel the moment when the screen fell away from where it had been pressing against her numb ankle. She heard the grunt of the mechanics as they caught it before it hit the ground. The mechanics started reaching in to pull Ben's legs out first. She felt the movement of air, which if not fresh, at least hadn't been trapped in the bunk with her and Ben for the last hour. Then sensation began to return to her foot, like a thousand jaku needles prodding her flesh.

"Oh," said Emalda, opening her eyes and blinking as the light sparked off stabbing pains behind her eyelids. "Oh."  
Ben was turning around in the newly opened space to see what was wrong when he leant on his recently released wrist. With a surprised grunt, he planted face-first into the mattress as the numb wrist refused to take his weight. Poppi wrapped both his large arms around Ben's waist and eased the Jedi Knight completely (if not graciously) free of the bunk. Emalda tried shaking her affected foot but in attempting not to kick Ben in the head, she kneed the top of the bunk hard enough to leave a bruise.  
"Settle, settle," said Poppi gruffly.  
"I don't want to settle," said Emalda testily. "I want to scream. I want to get out."

Poppi settled Ben on the ground, where the _Armistice's_ doctor and Qui-Gon both converged on him. The doctor flashed a light in Ben's eyes, making him wince and grimace after the dim light in the bunk. Qui-Gon knelt beside him, clasping Ben's shoulder tightly.  
"Well," said Ben, grimacing and squinting in the light of the cabin. "What took you so long?"  
Qui-Gon smiled at Ben's irritated frown, "You're welcome. This is Poppi. He and his shipmates rescued us."  
Ben's frown eased as he turned to Poppi, "We are most grateful for your help. Thank you."

Emalda slid down into the space Ben had just vacated, twisting her head and neck out of the corner and swearing fluently in her native tongue as the movement only made her headache worse. It was also at that point that she got her first clear look at the rest of the cabin. Wetness gathered at the edges of her eyes. It was only the thought that the stern Qui-Gon and a bunch of strangers were watching that stopped the tears from flowing over. Poppi and his apprentice reached into the bunk and seized Emalda's legs, blocking her view of the devastation.  
"I'm not sure I want to come out..." she croaked.

The two Kuhds ignored her and tugged hard, catching her before she could flop onto the damaged cabin floor. She squirmed as their hands gripped body parts that were not made to be gripped. Her squirming made it difficult for them to hold her but they managed to set her on the ground without dropping her. The doctor turned her attention to Emalda once she'd finished with Ben. The doctor was a large Kuhd who smelled just as much of grease as the work crews around her.  
"Can you tell me your name?" asked the doctor briskly.  
"Emalda."  
"Are you in any pain?"  
"No. Well, except for the headache."

The doctor flashed her light into Emalda's eyes, making the pain in her head spike to a new level. Beside her, Ben stood up a little too quickly and wobbled. Qui-Gon supported Ben until he regained his balance.  
"Doctor," said Ben. "I think our oxygen levels were falling towards the end. I suspect it might have affected Emalda's physiology more than mine."  
The Doctor frowned peered back at Emalda's eyes again.  
"Ah, contacts!" said the Doctor, looking surprised. "So, not human then?"  
"Ekash," said Emalda faintly.  
"Not familiar with that one," said the Doctor. "You don't have any obvious physical injuries. Tell me if the headache gets any worse."  
"I've got my own headache medication," said Emalda. "It's in the cargo bay."  
Emalda saw the Doctor wince and didn't think to ask why.  
"Even so," said the Doctor. "I'd like to monitor you for a few hours, just to be safe." 

"We'll get the two of you to the infirmary," spoke up Qui-Gon. "And while you two are resting, I will find whoever planted the bomb."  
Ben nodded attentively but Emalda brushed Poppi's hands away and stood up under her own power. She was relatively steady on her feet, considering.  
"Bomb?" she said faintly. "You mean somebody did this on purpose?"  
"You need rest," said Poppi, preparing to scoop her up in his arms.  
"Hey," said Emalda, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. "I'm fine. It's just my head."  
Flustered, Poppi stepped back quickly and stumbled on the uneven floor. The Doctor tried to catch him and they both went down. Emalda held out a hand to help them up again but Poppi's apprentice had already hauled them both back onto their feet.

Emalda was left standing there with her hand out awkwardly, feeling useless. She drew her hand back and crossed her arms over her chest. She addressed Qui-Gon.  
"What was that you said about a bomb?" she asked.  
"You need to get to the infirmary and rest," said Qui-Gon calmly. "I will tell you as soon as I know anything for sure."  
Emalda huffed and went to walk out of the cabin. Distracted, she made it to where the doorway had been before she registered the wreck that had been the cargo bay. She let her breath out in a noisy rasp and froze where she stood. Someone might have called her name but the only thing she heard was a roaring of white noise in her head.

_Yulana stood in a gulley of purple ferns, her loose-swinging tail enjoying the freedom of the kilts that Emalda refused to wear. The sprawling purple forests of their home world surrounded them, hiding them from prying eyes. Her eyes were free of the contacts and disguise she wore when she worked as a starship designer in a clinical, sanitised office. When it came to the traditional dances, Yulana would never have Emalda's grace or timing but she believed in the old customs in ways Emalda never could. That they were forbidden had not stopped her, only driven her and others like her into secrecy. She knew that to be discovered would have her imprisoned or executed by their government but she didn't care. She was happy._

_Yulana was smearing dyes into her skin, the patterns and knots the same as those on the nose of the_ Fahren _. Yulana looked up, smiling as she saw Emalda and stretching out a hand to welcome her sister. Emalda wanted to shout and throw away the ceremonial dye she later discovered had been poisoned with heavy metals. She wanted to but there was no point - not any more. It was already too late._

Emalda blinked and she was standing inside her sister's ruined ship, tears running down her face and Ben's arms around her. Ben's grip felt awkward, uncertain and unaccustomed to offering physical comfort. She wrapped her arms around him, hiding her face in his neck. His beard was rough against her cheek. She tightened her grip, the absurd thought crossing her mind that if she could just hold him tight enough then she'd never lose him. She knew it was ridiculous but she didn't - couldn't - relax her grip until he grunted in discomfort. Her throat felt so tight she found it difficult to speak.

"I'm sorry," she said, not knowing who she was apologising to.  
"It's okay," said Ben softly.  
"I'm sorry," she said again, not knowing what else to say. "I'm sorry."  
"Nothing to be sorry for," he said.

She opened her eyes and risked a look over Ben's shoulder. Poppi, his apprentice, and the doctor were all watching with varying degrees of pity. Emalda quickly glanced away from them, not wanting to see that. Qui-Gon had averted his gaze, giving her at least a partial illusion of privacy. Emalda pulled back from Ben, raising her face to his with tears still running wetly down her cheeks.  
"Do you feel up to walking down to the infirmary?" asked Ben gently, his eyes fixed on hers and blotting out the presence of anybody else in the room.  
She nodded and let him guide her across the ruined carpet and down the ramp. She very carefully refrained from looking at the damaged _Fahren_ or at anybody they passed. Ben walked with his arms around her, equally reluctant to let go.


	26. Qui-Gon

Qui-Gon was tired, feeling his age in his bones. He had been told the Wefhuk Investigator was in discussions with the _Armistice's_ Captain. It had taken Qui-Gon twenty minutes to find the Captain, only to be told that the Investigator had already left.  
"Any idea where I might find him?" asked Qui-Gon, heart sinking as he guessed the answer.  
"No idea," said the Captain apologetically, tongue flickering. "I think he was headed for the galley, though. We carry passengers from Wefhuk and he wanted to question them."  
"I see," said Qui-Gon, bowing. "Thank you for your assistance."

Qui-Gon went to the galley, where the Investigator had been seen briefly before reportedly heading for the hold. Qui-Gon turned around and trudged back to where he had started from. The _Armistice's_ hold was massive, the brown metal alloy of the walls scratched and scored with age and heavy use. The much smaller _Fahren_ was a personal yacht which took up barely a quarter of the hold's full space. 

Qui-Gon approached the _Fahren_ , eying the damage to the cargo bay from the outside. The metal had curled outwards, away from the source of the explosion. It was possible that the damage to the ship's basic structure meant that the ship was unsalvageable. Sections of the _Fahren_ still shone the original silver, with the green and gold trimming snaking its way up and down the wings. The trimmings ended in an intricate knot on the nose, badly scratched by floating debris. 

Poppi and his work crews were gone, though several of their toolboxes still sat by the _Fahren_. The rest of the hold was empty and silent. There was a noise from inside the ship, a squeak of gears. Frowning, Gui-Gon approached the _Fahren_ and pressed the switch that lowered the ramp. A purple light flashed at him, indicating that the ramp had been sealed shut.  
"Hello, is there somebody in there?" called Qui-Gon.  
There was silence but Qui-Gon was certain that somebody was there, frozen in place by the sound of his voice.  
"Hello?" repeated Qui-Gon.  
He tried the ramp again but it wouldn't open.

Suspicious, Qui-Gon backed up several steps and leapt up to land lightly on one of the _Fahren's_ wings. The wing creaked under his weight but held. He pulled his lightsaber from the folds of his robe and climbed higher on the wing, towards the damaged roof. Careful of the sharp edges of metal, Qui-Gon leant over the hole and looked down into the _Fahren's_ cargo bay. He was standing over the front of the bay, less than two metres from the cockpit where he had been trapped earlier. Poppi's work crews had switched off their lights to save power, leaving the cargo bay in shadow. It would almost seem as if nothing had happened, if pieces of debris hadn't been partly cleared to the corner on his left. 

"Who's there?" asked Qui-Gon, crouching down.  
There was a furtive movement from the shadows on the right. Qui-Gon leapt from his position just as a trio of darts was fired at his head. He ignited his lightsaber as he landed inside the _Fahren's_ cargo bay, casting more light into the shadows. In the green glow, he was able to make out the features of the sniper who had attacked his companions earlier. She was a blonde and heavyset human woman. The wrinkles and hard lines on her face were deepened by the poor lighting, making her seem older than she probably was. A blowpipe was clutched in her thick fingers as she stared, transfixed by Qui-Gon's lightsaber.

"Put the weapon down," Qui-Gon boomed. "And you will not be harmed."  
She gave a choked little laugh.  
"Oh, honey," she said, her voice rough and husky. "I don't think so."  
Qui-Gon's lightsaber swung through the air as she raised the blowpipe to her lips. The woman squealed as her blowpipe was neatly cleaved in two. There was movement from behind him but before he could turn he was struck by an electric charge. 

He staggered, his lightsaber dropping from spasming fingers. The woman darted forward, seizing the lightsaber and skipping back from Qui-Gon's clumsy swipe. Qui-Gon turned, forcing his muscles to obey him. The pile of debris scattered to reveal a single-wheeled serving droid, an electric prod mounted on its chest. The droid's thin arms waved erratically, as if to keep its balance.  
"W3-D7 tells the Jedi to surrender!" squawked the droid. "The Jedi must surrender."  
"The Jedi does not take orders from you," said Qui-Gon calmly.

Qui-Gon threw himself backwards and used the Force to call his lightsaber from the woman's hands. The droid squealed at a painfully high pitch, an electric charge striking the wall where Qui-Gon had been standing. The lightsaber flew to the ends of the woman's fingers but he lost his concentration as the droid's second charge hit him squarely in the chest. He reeled backwards as the woman clutched the lightsaber tight to her chest and the droid advanced across the carpet. Qui-Gon scrambled backwards, through into the dark and ruined sleeping cabin. Another charge from the droid hit one of the bunks as Qui-Gon took shelter behind the central column. The electrical charge dispersed itself harmlessly against the damaged column, the bedding from one of the bunk's still pinned in place by a metal splinter about three feet long.

Qui-Gon picked up a metal fragment that had once been part of a crate in the cargo bay and waited with his back against the column. The droid stopped at the entrance to the cabin, its single wheel unable to cross over the debris that covered the floor.  
"There's nowhere to run, honey," shouted the woman, taking care to remain behind W3-D7.  
"Were you responsible for the bomb that nearly destroyed this vessel?" asked Qui-Gon politely, as if he were casually enquiring about the weather.  
"A' course not," she said. "We just want that parcel and we wouldn't get it if we blew up your ship now, would we? If you just give us the parcel, we'll be on our way."  
"I am afraid," said Qui-Gon. "That I do not know what parcel you are referring to."  
The woman made an exasperated noise and Qui-Gon made his move.

He threw the metal fragment to the left, where it bounced noisily off the wall. As the droid swiveled and fired a charge at the sound, Qui-Gon surged out from behind his cover. He seized the metal splinter with both hands and, in one smooth movement, pulled it from the central column and speared the droid through the chest-plate. The droid screamed loudly, sparks erupting from its chest as it toppled over. It continued to scream, its lone wheel spinning uselessly against the floor. Qui-Gon held out his hand and the lightsaber was ripped from the spluttering woman's grasp.  
"Now," said Qui-Gon calmly, as she shrank back against the wall. "I have some questions I would like answered."


	27. Anakin

Ranun was hovering just outside the door. It did little to improve Anakin's mood as he sat in a private booth and glared at the holographic projector. He had tried three of the devices already, gradually coming to the frustrating conclusion that the transmitters were functioning perfectly. The fact that he wasn't receiving a return signal meant the _Fahren's_ computer wasn't even acknowledging Anakin's transmission which meant that something was _very_ wrong at the other end.

Anakin gave in and broadcast a general message, in the hope that someone might re-transmit the message.  
"This is a message for Ben Kenobi from Anakin Skywalker," began Anakin. "Master, we have reason to believe there is going to be an attempt on your lives. Obi-Wan and I will continue to investigate here on Wefhuk until we hear from you."  
Anakin made to switch off the projector but hesitated.  
"Master...," said Anakin softly. "I'm worried... that something's happened to you. Please contact me."  
He stepped backwards, switching off the projector.

He turned and pulled the booth door open fast enough to deposit the eavesdropping Ranun onto the floor. Anakin stepped over him without a backward glance and stalked towards the lift. He'd nearly reached it when the reception nurse intercepted him.  
"We have an incoming transmission for an Anakin Skywalker," said the nurse. "Is that you?"  
Anakin nearly bowled Ranun over in his haste to return to the booth.  
"I'll take that as a yes," muttered the nurse, returning to his station.

Anakin dove back into the booth and shut the door firmly in Ranun's face. The transmitter was recording a live signal from a ship called the _Armistice_. Anakin activated the transmission and a hologram of Ben's familiar features materialised in front of him. Standing only a few inches tall, the holographic Ben smiled tiredly and relaxed as he recognised Anakin. Anakin scrutinised the image, still unable to shake the powerful sense that his Master needed him.  
"Anakin, you needn't worry," said Ben, apparently reading Anakin's expression accurately. "A bomb was detonated in the _Fahren's_ cargo bay but nobody was hurt. A passing ship called the _Armistice_ has stopped to render assistance and is transporting us to Canemone Station."  
"A bomb?" asked Anakin, unable to conceal the alarm in his voice. "How big of a bomb?"  
"Not big enough," joked Ben.  
Anakin's smile was strained, even though he had seen his Master face far greater perils over the years. Ben's expression grew serious as he picked up on Anakin's mood.

"The _Fahren_ has been badly damaged," said Ben, glancing over his shoulder at something outside of Anakin's line of sight. "But it had a few bomb detection sensors we didn't know about. The ship was dropping out of hyperspace before we knew what was happening. We're all fine, Anakin, I promise you."  
Anakin swallowed and tried to smother a memory of debris in space after an explosion in hyperspace - there had been children involved and no survivors. The debris had been scattered over the width of parsecs, falling as a gruesome rain across the spacelane.  
"I know who planted it," said Anakin menacingly.  


Ben did not look impressed and Anakin floundered for a moment, trying to guess what he'd done. Ben looked suspicious.  
"What exactly have you been doing?" asked Ben. "You promised to remain in the presence of one of Investigator's Tylip's officers at all times."  
"We have," said Anakin hurriedly. "One's eavesdropping at the door right now."  
Anakin gestured over his shoulder at the door behind him. Ben sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
"I wish someone had warned us they were such an untrusting people," said Ben.  
"I think I know why they're wary," said Anakin. "Investigator Irus asked to speak to us. The one who nearly hit me with a speederbike, remember? She hinted that one of their sources had fingered us as being party to the smuggling ring. Irus believes we weren't involved but Tylip... well, you've met him."  
"You're saying, we all stood by and watched while he and his officers loaded the _Fahren's_ cargo bay with explosives?" asked Ben, his eyes narrowing. "We'll definitely be having a word with him when we get back. You and Obi-Wan watch your backs. Tylip might already know we survived."  
"You're the one who needs to be careful, Master," said Anakin. "Tylip left Wefhuk shortly after you did."  
"Did he now?" said Ben, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Coming to check the explosives did their job, perhaps?"

Ben glanced behind him again, before coming to a decision.  
"Normally, I'd ask you to wait for us before investigating any further," said Ben. "But in this case, delay might mean another attempt on our lives. The sooner we get to the bottom of this, the better. It seems Emalda has had contact with the smugglers. They planted stolen goods on her to avoid security and the mugging was an attempt to recover them."  
"Does she know where it happened?" asked Anakin, leaning forward in interest.  
"They sold her a prohibited item and hid their own loot in the wrapping," explained Ben. "The one who seemed to be in charge was a human bartender named Chara Polli. Polli is blonde and middle-aged, with a heavy build. She works at Tscoruh Bar. There's also a female Twi'lek bartender and a serving droid designated W3-D7. The droid's personality sub-routines are compromised so it's probably been pressed into service as a slicer or hacker."  
"Right," said Anakin. "Since the Investigative Service is being generally unhelpful, did you want me to contact Spaceport Security with this information?"  
"Best not to," said Ben. "Emalda was put in touch with the smugglers by Spaceport Security Officer Crose."  
"The same officer who was conveniently absent when Emalda was being attacked?" asked Anakin. "And whose information prompted us to leave Wefhuk?"

"The very same," agreed Ben. "We can't trust Spaceport Security and, it seems, the Investigative Service doesn't trust us."  
"Obi-Wan and I will head to Tscoruh and see what kind of trouble we can find."  
"Knowing you, you'll find it," said Ben. "Just be extra careful."  
"We will," said Anakin. "You too, Master."  
Ben nodded and terminated the transmission.

Anakin worried his lip with his teeth, wondering how difficult it might be to lose Ranun before they went to Tscoruh Bar. He pushed open the door to the booth, finding a wide-eyed Ranun standing several feet away from the door. The Investigator had adopted such as casually relaxed posture that Anakin knew he'd been eavesdropping. Anakin thought that could work to his advantage.  
"You have no objections to going back upstairs?" asked Anakin in a friendly tone.  
"No," said Ranun quickly.  
"Oh, good," said Anakin. "I have something I want to talk to you about."  
Anakin smiled pleasantly at him, which the Investigator seemed to find extremely disturbing.


	28. Emalda

Emalda was perched on the edge of a bed in the infirmary, a tray of hot pastries settled across her lap. She was trying not to stare at the closed door in front of her. She forced her eyes to slide away from the door, towards the walls. Like the rest of the _Armistice_ , the infirmary's brown metal walls were scratched and dull with age. Emalda sat on the first bed in a long row. Medical consoles were stationed beside each free-standing bed but the one beside Emalda was dark. There was a door marked storage and a row of lockers at the back of the room.

Her head swung around as the door opened and Ben entered, frowning and preoccupied. She leant forward to place the pastry tray on the darkened medical console. Ben looked up and saw her, his frown smoothing out. She smiled back but felt strangely shy now that the tears were gone.  
"I've had a message from Anakin," said Ben. "He and Obi-Wan will check out Tscoruh bar. I haven't been able to fill Qui-Gon in yet, though."  
Emalda mumbled agreement, knowing she had her own errand to be running; an apology to Poppi and his work crews for making such a scene. She had a vague feeling she owed Qui-Gon an apology as well but she knew _that_ wasn't happening.

Ben gazed hard at the infirmary, as if the door itself could reveal Qui-Gon's current whereabouts. After a few moments, he visibly shook himself and turned his attention back to her.  
"Are you feeling better?" he asked.  
"Fine," said Emalda, wiping juice off her chin. "Have you tried these? They're full of the sweetest fruit I've ever tasted and they're hot enough to burn your tongue."  
Ben took the pastry she held out to him. He hopped up onto the bed to sit beside her, still holding the pastry gingerly in his hands.  
"Try it," she prompted him.  
He bit into it, starting in surprise as the hot juice squirted out of it. He wiped his beard clean with one hand.  
"Told you it was hot," she smiled.  
"You did," he agreed.

Hesitantly, she edged sideways until she could rest her head on his shoulder. She felt him tense for a moment before he relaxed and slipped her free arm around his shoulders.  
"So, where's the good doctor?" he asked.  
"She's in her office down the hall," said Emalda, waving a vague hand. "She left me with orders to have plenty to eat and drink, and nothing too strenuous for the next twelve hours."  
"Well, I doubt there will be much to do until we reach Canemone, in any case," said Ben.  
Emalda nodded in agreement, watching as Ben took another bite of the pastry.  
"Did Anakin say anything else?"  
Ben's expression darkened, "He was trying to warn us that Investigator Tylip might try to kill us." 

Emalda sat up abruptly, staring at Ben and pulling away from him. From the flash of guilt that flashed momentarily across his face, she gathered he hadn't actually intended to tell her that.  
"You think Tylip blew up Yulana's ship?" she asked.  
"It's not been confirmed," said Ben reluctantly. "But he did have opportunity and motive."  
He pulled her back towards him, guiding her head to rest once more on his shoulder. He placed a gentle kiss on the crown on her head.

"I know the ship was important to you, Emalda," he whispered gently, his breath stirring her hair. "But we survived and that's what's important. We are both still here."  
She shut her eyes, shocked to feel dampness on her cheeks again. She needed to stop bursting into tears.  
"I know. I do," said Emalda. "I'd rather have lost the ship than you."

It was true but she immediately felt guilty for saying it. Yulana's last project had been the _Fahren_ and Emalda considered herself not so much the owner but the caretaker of her sister's ship. She felt selfish for valuing her own needs above her sister's.  
"Do you think my mother is on Canemone?" she asked, changing the subject.  
Ben sighed, more aware of her emotions than she liked, and hugged her closer.  
"I doubt it," he said apologetically. "More likely Crose lied to lure us away from Wefhuk."  
"Oh."

Emalda fell silent. The loss of the _Fahren_ would make searching for her mother much more difficult. To search for a single individual in an entire galaxy was a mammoth task and she was not coping with it well so far.  
"We should get some rest," said Ben. "We're both tired."  
He eased himself backwards onto the bed, pulling her with him. Designed for one Kuhd, there was just enough room for a human and an Ekash to lie side by side. She tucked herself under his arm, resting her head on his chest. It took her a moment to find a spot where his ribs weren't digging into her cheek. She found a good angle and shut her eyes.

"Now, why couldn't we have been stuck like this for an hour?" asked Emalda, feeling safer than she had in a long time.  
"I certainly wouldn't complain," agreed Ben.  
"Yes but you never complain anyway," smiled Emalda.  
He swatted her lightly on the hip.  
"Qui-Gon might complain," said Emalda. "If he catches us like this."  
"Never mind about Qui-Gon," said Ben, yawning. "He's too busy to be concerned with us."  
Emalda opened her eyes to peer at Ben, studying his expression.  
"Rest," Ben admonished her, without opening his eyes.  
She sighed and shut her eyes again. Ben's breathing evened out into sleep and Emalda allowed her exhaustion to catch up to her. The _Fahren_ was damaged, possibly beyond repair, but at least Emalda knew where she stood with Ben. She wasn't alone. 

The door was whooshed open again and Emalda opened her eyes blearily. The profile in the doorway was that of a Kuhd but it took Emalda a moment to realise it wasn't the _Armistice's_ doctor come to check on them. It was rounder and larger and as she watched a tongue flickered out to taste the air.  
"Ben?" she asked, pulling on his hand.  
"Hmm?"  
"Tylip's here."


	29. Qui-Gon

Qui-Gon watched with his arms folded as the _Armistice's_ security crew took away the blonde woman who'd finally admitted her name was Chara Polli. She watched Qui-Gon with the bitter resignation of those who have led hard lives. It was an expression he had seen many times before. She schooled her expression well but Qui-Gon had sensed her keen anxiety when she'd given a fake name. The little he had been able to deduce from her sullen silence troubled him greatly. He still did not know who had planted the bomb but Chara Polli had certainly been one of Emalda's attackers back on Wefhuk. There was also the mystery of the package that Chara Polli had been searching the _Fahren_ for.

Poppi edged tentatively up to the fallen W3-D7, still twitching around the metal splinter that pinned it to the floor. Qui-Gon closed his eyes, standing motionless in the middle of the _Fahren's_ cargo bay, and searched his memory. He had a feeling he had seen a package before, wrapped in brown paper, but he had attached no importance to it at the time.

_"We are all perfectly fine," said Ben, perched on a treatment bed across the room. "They just insisted on more bureaucracy before they released us. Typical."  
As Ben spoke, Qui-Gon's gaze was drawn to Ben's right hand where it rested on his knee. Several shallow cuts peppered the fingers, extending up to the wrist where Ben's sleeve began. Qui-Gon had not registered consciously at the time that a thin sliver of shrapnel was embedded in one of the pouches on Ben's belt - further evidence of the close call. _

Qui-Gon remembered but he didn't know why. He could feel the Force prompting him. But to see what?

_Ben was perched on one treatment bed. Emalda sat hunched over on the other, her jacket and parcel cushioned in her lap. One of Emalda's braids was partially unravelled. Ben's robe was draped across her shoulders and she seemed to be trying to shrink inside it. Emalda returned Qui-Gon's look without any of the usual hostility._

Qui-Gon's eyes shot open. Emalda had the parcel that her muggers were searching for. It was more difficult than before to fight down the surge of irritation he felt. He reminded himself that it was not his place to judge her. Emalda might prove to be a source of danger rather than simply distraction for them. He would have to make Ben understand this. A more pressing concern was where the parcel was now. If it had been amongst the supplies in the cargo bay, it would have been sucked into outer space. He closed his eyes again and opened himself to the Force.

_Ben was turning around awkwardly in the confined space of the bunk when his recently released wrist gave way. Ben tried to catch himself on his elbow but didn't have the strength to avoid face-planting into the the mattress. Poppi moved in, a surprising gentleness in his pudgy arms. He eased Ben the rest of the way out of the bunk._

At the time, Qui-Gon's attention was on Ben. What had he seen of Emalda?

_Emalda straightened her numb leg into the space Ben was leaving. Her control of her limb was awkward and in trying to avoid kicking Ben in the head, she kneed the top of the bunk hard. Qui-Gon had not been focusing on it at the time but he had heard the dull thud. He must have glanced her way because he remembered her annoyed grimace of pain._

Poppi had pulled on thick insulating gloves as he reached in to disconnect the remains of W3-D7's power supply. Sparks fizzed harmlessly off the gloves. Qui-Gon shivered at the memory of the electrical charges coursing through his muscles. He shook off that memory for a later time.

 _Emalda curled up defensively, rubbing her bruised knee._  
_"Settle, settle," said Poppi.  
_"I don't want to settle," said Emalda testily. "I want to scream."__

Where was the package the droid had been so desperate for? The memory resisted for a moment and then came to him as clearly as if it was happening again.

_Emalda kneed the top of the bunk and grimaced in pain. She curled up and rubbed her bruised knee. Her body shifted and moved. Her clothing twisted. There was something brown in her lap._

Qui-Gon had only glanced at it briefly, out of the corner of his eye. He hadn't even consciously realised he'd seen it.

_Her body shifted and a brown package slipped off her lap._

Qui-Gon opened her eyes, to find Poppi watching him warily. Poppi's hands were buried in W3-D7's metallic innards and the droid had finally stopped twitching.  
"There is something wrong?" asked Poppi hesitantly.  
"Nothing I can't handle," Qui-Gon reassured him.  
Qui-Gon left Poppi to his dissection of the droid and walked through to the cabin.

There was still no power in the cabin but the cargo bay lighting poured through the jagged hole where the door used to be. Qui-Gon trod carefully through the lingering rubble and debris to the bunk where Ben and Emalda had been trapped. Reaching on his toes, Qui-Gon ran an empty palm through the disturbed bedding. The package was right there, and likely had been there the whole time that Chara Polli and W3-D7 had been searching the _Fahren_.

It was heavier than Qui-Gon expected. He slowly unwrapped the paper, revealing a folded garment interwoven from rich maroon and burgundy fabric with delicate white tracings. The tracings reminded him of the patterns decorating the _Fahren_. He pulled one corner of the material out to examine the tracings in clearer detail and revealed a dozen small jade statues. It explained the package's unexpected weight.

Most of them were just smaller than Qui-Gon's fist and took the form of planets. A great deal of detail had been incised into the surfaces of the spheres, each specific enough that he could recognised several as reproductions of actual planets through the galaxy. One was covered by the heavily developed surface of Coruscant, with solid carvings of pollution clouds obscuring large tracts of the city planet. Another sphere was covered in representations of the forests of Ithor. He also recognised Alderaan and Chandila. There was an ice world he couldn't name and one which seemed to be a spherical space station, with a circular indent on one side. The last he held in his palm for several minutes, tracing the precision of the small metallic valleys and channels that criss-crossed its surface. These were sophisticated works of craftsmanship.

Qui-Gon re-wrapped the package and tucked in safely inside his robe. He returned to the cargo bay, finding Poppi wiping his hands with a collection of droid parts gathered next to his tool-box.  
"Anything of interest?" asked Qui-Gon.  
"Many modifications," said Poppi, frowning at the droid in disapproval. "This droid used for something... not right. Not legal."  
"You haven't seen the Investigator from the Wefhuk Investigative Service, by any chance?" said Qui-Gon. "I'm starting to understand what is behind all this."  
"Yes, he has gone to the infirmary," nodded Poppi. "He will help for certain. Investigator Tylip, is his name."

Qui-Gon looked sharply at Poppi. He didn't know what his expression was but Poppi seemed unsettled by it.  
"You're sure Tylip's gone to the infirmary?"  
"I'm sure he has," said Poppi. "He wanted to talk to your friends as soon as possible."  
"I'm not certain talking is what he has in mind..."


	30. Anakin

Anakin studied Ranun as they travelled up in the lift. Ranun was trying to remain aloof and professional, but couldn't restrain himself from glancing at Anakin out of the corner of his eyes. Anakin's sudden good mood was making him nervous. He scrambled to keep up with Anakin's long legs as Anakin marched back to Irus' room. The guards outside the door tensed at Anakin's approach. Anakin ignored them and knocked lightly on the door.  
"Come in," called Irus.  
Anakin slipped inside, shutting the door in Ranun's face.

Irus watched him warily from the bed. Obi-Wan was sitting by Irus' bedside, holding up a datapad so that both he and Irus could see it. He did not look up at Anakin's entrance. Anakin swallowed and his cocky greeting died in his throat.  
"I got a call from Ben," said Anakin, slightly awkward.  
Obi-Wan's head shot up.  
"They're fine," said Anakin. "There was an explosion and they're being towed, but they're all fine."  
Obi-Wan's shoulders sagged in relief. Irus gripped Obi-Wan's hand awkwardly in hers and gave a reassuring squeeze. Obi-Wan squeezed back with a watery smile and Anakin's knees felt weak. Anakin knew he was an idiot for saying Obi-Wan didn't care but... well, apparently, he was idiot.

"Ben wants us to investigate," added Anakin, gratified when Obi-Wan's attention was returned to him. "We have a couple of suspects to look for and the sooner we get to the bottom of this, the safer we'll all be."  
"Suspects?" asked Irus. "You have a lead already?"  
"Emalda encountered the smugglers at the nightclub, without realising it. They hid stolen goods on her and tried to mug her to retrieve them," explained Anakin. "Our Masters have detained their assailants but there are at least two more suspects at large. One is Spaceport Security guard Crose..."  
"We suspected somebody in Spaceport Security," admitted Irus. "But we didn't know who."  
"...and the other is a twilek bartender from Tscoruh Nightclub."  
"Call in Ranun," said Irus.

Anakin raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Obi-Wan.  
"We can handle ourselves - no offense meant," said Anakin, gesturing to both Obi-Wan and himself.  
"Ranun has access to the case files," said Irus. "Helping you? Is something he can do."  
"I don't think he's feeling particularly helpful," said Anakin.  
"Well," said Obi-Wan tartly, standing to bring himself face to face with Anakin. "Tact and a level-head would be a good start."  
"Look, I _know_ I shouldn't have said..."  
Anakin jumped as Irus touched his sleeve briefly before her exhausted arm flopped back down to the bed.

"He will help, if I ask," said Irus.  
"Okay," said Anakin. "I'll fetch him."  
Anakin stepped away to open the door as Obi-Wan turned back to Irus. Anakin could hear Obi-Wan's quiet voice.  
"While we are looking into this matter," said Obi-Wan. "It might be best for you to rest. Your body is still recovering and stress will not help you."  
"So say the blasted doctors," sighed Irus. "And so say you."

The rest of the exchange was lost as Anakin stepped out into the hallway. The two hallway guards stared at him stonily. Investigator Ranun, who had been leaning against the wall, snapped upright.  
"Investigator Ranun," said Anakin.  
Ranun blinked and rested his palm on the hilt of his blaster. Anakin couldn't help smirking again, which did nothing to reassure Ranun.  
"Investigator Irus wishes to speak with you," said Anakin. "If you have a moment."  
Anakin returned to the hospital room, to see that Obi-Wan had resumed his seat beside Irus' bed. A moment later, Ranun cautiously peered through the door.  
"Ranun?" called Irus. "It must be you, with such spiky hair."  
Ranun seemed reassured and came further into the room.  
"I told him you wanted to see him," said Anakin, mostly for Ranun's benefit.

It worked as Ranun seemed to remember he was a professional and strode forward to Irus' bed. He gave a sharp salute before leaning down towards her.  
"Are you alright, Irus?"  
"I'm fine, Ranun. No worry."  
"I'm glad," said Ranun honestly.

"You are always my best student, Ranun," said Irus. "So I want you to arrest the people, the ones who did this to me."  
"Of course," said Ranun quickly, shooting a calculating glance at Anakin and Obi-Wan.  
Irus caught the glance and clucked her tongue like a mother reefta scolding a kitten.  
"Do not listen to all Tylip tell you, Junior Investigator," said Irus. "These men saved my life and now, they go to arrest my attackers. Tylip is too suspicious and won't let them. So, what say you? What shall we do?"

Ranun squirmed and screwed up his face in thought. He looked unhappy.  
"Investigator Tylip is very experienced," said Ranun. "But... he has been angry. Grief makes people act like fools."  
"I concur, I say," said Irus. "So, again I say, what shall we do?"  
Ranun sighed deeply.  
"Make the arrest, even without Investigator Tylip's blessing," said Ranun reluctantly. "And hope I am not demoted to policing the traffic."  
"If it helps at all, we'll do our best to prevent that," said Obi-Wan.  
"I don't think it does help," said Ranun gloomily. "But thank you anyway."

"We have two suspects," explained Obi-Wan, showing the datapad he'd been holding to Ranun. "One is Office Crose from Spaceport Security."  
Ranun enlarged the picture of Crose to examine it closely and nodded.  
"Investigator Tylip tried to question Crose about his dealings with you," said Ranun. "He left his workplace without explanation. We think he is on the run."  
"Do you know about the bartender as well?" asked Anakin. "We don't have a name but we do have a description."  
"I don't remember anything about a bartender specifically," said Ranun. "But I can check the records."  
"This bartender was a female twilek who worked at Tscoruh," explained Anakin.

Ranun brightened.  
"If she worked at Tscoruh, then we will have her name," said Ranun. "We raided it several days ago but found nothing."  
Ranun pulled a datapad of his own from an inside jacket pocket. He scrolled down, biting his lip.  
"Ah, I interviewed her but she didn't stand out," said Ranun. "Her name is Hija Gan. She was quiet, but so were all the other staff. We questioned her because of her criminal record but there was nothing to connect her to the robberies."  
"What kind of record?" asked Irus.  
"Only minor offenses, mostly electronic theft," said Ranun, re-reading his own notes. "She's a qualified mechanic but lost her job two years ago. Working as a bartender ever since."  
"Mechanic?" frowned Anakin. "Does she have any experience with droids?"  
Ranun glanced back at his datapad.  
"Yes...," he said. "When she worked as a mechanic, her duties included droid repair."  
"Given that a modified droid was used in the robberies," said Anakin. "I think she just moved up the list of suspects. Do we have an address?"  



	31. Emalda

Emalda stared wide-eyed at Tylip as the Investigator stood immovably in the doorway. Beneath her, Ben had gone completely still. She couldn't even feel the movement of his chest as he breathed, though his heartbeat maintained a steady rhythm that never faltered. Emalda's own heartbeat thundered in her ears. This man had tried to blow her and Ben into atoms. He had blasted Yulana's ship into a wreck.  
"Investigator," she said, anger burning in her chest and choking her throat.  
Tylip's tongue flickered out to taste the air as he focused unfriendly eyes on her. He moved forward into the infirmary, the door falling shut behind him. It was only then that she noticed the blaster in his hand. The anger in her throat froze into a lump as she realised that both she and Ben were unarmed.

Ben's arms clamped around her waist in a painfully tight grip and rolled them both off the bed. Tylip was firing as they moved, blaster bolts scorching the sheets. As Emalda rolled over the top of Ben, a blaster bolt clipped the end of one of her braids. Her hair sparked and caught fire, stinging as it bounced against her cheek. She landed hard on the floor behind the bed, Ben pressed on top of her. She battered her burning braid into the ground with a free hand, smothering the flames as two more blaster bolts passed overhead. The blaster bolts hit the lockers on the far side of the room. One of the locker doors was blown from its hinges, scattering spare bedding and bandages across the floor.  
"You think you can get away with it?" shouted Tylip.  
"Get away with what, you overgrown bantha ass?" Emalda shouted back.

Tylip's footsteps approached the bed and Ben scrambled off her, hooking her by the elbow and dragging her across the floor behind him. He was heading for the next bed in the row. Emalda got her own feet underneath her and launched herself forward to land beside him as more blaster bolts peppered their original position. She couldn't see Tylip but she could hear him coming.  
"I know," shouted Tylip. "And you won't get away with it, I promise you."  
"Still don't know what you're talking about, you festering slimeball," Emalda bellowed back.  
Ben caught her arm gently and signaled to the right. Emalda nodded and gathered herself for a dash.

Ben waved a hand sharply through the air and the pastry tray soared in a graceful arc towards Tylip's head. Emalda was already gone, diving to the next bed. There was a harsh ringing as Tylip fired a bolt at the incoming tray, easily deflecting the thin metal serving dish away. The hot pastries somersaulted off it and splattered across Tylip's head and neck. As the Kuhd growled in surprise rather than true pain, Ben launched himself feet-first over the bed towards Tylip. Tylip saw him coming but had no time to take aim with the blaster, managing only to twist his gun-arm out of the way of Ben's boots. Instead of their intended target, Ben's feet smashed into Tylip's chest and knocked them both to the ground.

Winded, Tylip tried to raise the blaster again only to have Ben pin the weapon in place with his knee. Tylip scowled as he realised that Ben's reflexes were faster than he had expected. Changing tactics, Tylip discarded the blaster and rolled himself on top of the Jedi knight. Ben got in several well placed blows before grunting as Tylip leaned most of his weight onto Ben's chest. The Kuhd weighed at least twice as much as Ben and knew how to use that to his advantage in a fight. The air was forced from Ben's lungs and Tylip kept trying to pin Ben's hands. Tylip seemed to have every intention of smothering him. 

Ben twisted enough in his thrashing to knee Tylip in the side. Tylip lurched but managed to stay on top, wrapping solid fingers around Ben's neck. Emalda scrambled out from behind the bed towards the fight, tripping on the blankets strewn across the floor. She landed hard on her hands and knees on the ruined locker door. It was only about half the length of her arm but thinner than a hand. She heaved it into her arms awkwardly, staggering sideways until she found her balance.  
"FILTHY SMUGGLERS!" roared Tylip. "DIRTY BEASTS! I WON'T LET YOU GET AWAY WITH IT!"  
Ben could only croak in response, unable to draw in a breath.

Emalda, ignored by both men, swung the locker door like a club into the back of Tylip's head. Metal met skull with a sickening crack and Tylip flopped bonelessly forward. Emalda shoved at Tylip's side as Ben crawled out from under him. Emalda discarded the locker door and checked Tylip for a pulse. She was disappointed to find one. She crouched beside Ben, who was sprawled on the ground and taking several shuddering breaths. 

"You alright?" she asked, wrapping a tentative arm around his shoulders.  
Still out of breath, he smiled and nodded.  
"Good... job...," he panted.  
"You did most of the work," said Emalda, kissing his temple.  
He smiled wryly and leaned into her touch.  
"Well, it wasn't my most impressive fight ever," he admitted.  
"I promise not to tell anyone," said Emalda, in the most serious tone she could manage.

She had an urge to laugh madly and start crying again. Instead, she reached over and kissed him on the lips. He kissed her back, reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand. She pulled back to look him in the eyes.  
"Tylip's still alive," she said.  
"Good," said Ben. "I'd rather not be responsible for the death of a law enforcement officer."  
"Well, technically, I was the one who knocked him out."  
"That's true," said Ben, tugging at her arm until she sat beside him.  
Ben traced her jawline with his index finger, distracted.  
"At least now Tylip has a _real_ reason to be afraid of doors," said Emalda, smiling smugly.  
Ben laughed and kissed her again. He ran a hand through her hair, rubbing her burnt braid through his fingers. She raised her hands to support his head as the kiss deepened.

The door opened and they turned to see the doctor and Qui-Gon standing in the doorway. Ben dropped his hand from her hair and pulled back. Qui-Gon's face fell in disappointment and Ben couldn't meet his gaze. The doctor stood, staring at her ruined infirmary in shock.  
"What happened?" asked Qui-Gon, his tone stern.  
"Investigator Tylip just tried to kill us," said Emalda, slipping an arm around Ben's waist and helping him stand.  
Qui-Gon's hand moved reflexively to the bulge of his hidden lightsaber. The doctor backed away from all of them, nervously.  
"I'm calling ship security," she snapped, and fled the room.  
"Terrific," said Ben flatly. "That's just what my day needed."


	32. Qui-Gon

Qui-Gon and Poppi slipped back into the medical centre just as Investigator Tylip was regaining consciousness. The four Armistice security guards frowned at Qui-Gon but let him be. He wasn't the one suspected of attacking a law enforcement officer. Their attention was focused on Emalda and Ben, whom they had shepherded to one side of the room. Emalda was perched on the edge of a bed, arms crossed and glaring at Tylip who was still flat on his back on the floor. Ben was standing quietly despite the annoyance in his expression, one hand absent-mindedly tracing the edge of the bruising at his throat. The bruising was large and disturbingly hand-shaped. Qui-Gon followed Emalda's gaze and found himself unable to look away from the shape of Tylip's large hands. They fit Ben's bruises too perfectly to be a coincidence.

The doctor was kneeling on the ground over the prostrate Tylip. Tylip twitched and raised a groggy hand to wave away the light the doctor was trying to shine into his eyes. His tongue flicked out limply and dripped spit onto his chin.  
"Investigator?" asked the doctor. "Can you hear me?"  
"Just fine," grumbled Tylip.  
Tylip sat up despite the doctor's attempts to keep him on the ground. The doctor stepped away, frustrated. Poppi edged up and gave the doctor a reassuring pat on the back.

"Can I offer you a hand up, Investigator?" asked Qui-Gon, stepping forward.  
Tylip took a moment to focus on Qui-Gon and his outstretched hand. Tylip's tongue flicked out and wiped the spit from his chin. Slowly he reached out and clamped his hand around Qui-Gon's wrist. Qui-Gon pulled the Inspector to his feet, meeting his gaze calmly. Tylip took his time releasing Qui-Gon's hand.  
"Investigator, sir," spoke up one of the security guards. "Can you tell us who attacked you?"  
"If you're not feeling up to it," said Qui-Gon quickly. "We can simply examine the security recording."  
"Yes," spoke up Ben. "I'd quite like to see that recording myself."  
"Of course," said Tylip. "They'll need it for your trial."

Tylip smirked at Ben.  
"As it happens, I have a copy of the recording here," said Qui-Gon, holding up a datachip. "Quite fortunate, since the main recording seems to have been corrupted. If Poppi here hadn't had the good idea of creating a copy just in case then we would have had to rely on witness testimony. Although I'm sure your testimony would only have confirmed what's on this datachip, right Investigator?"  
Tylip seemed to be trying to burn a hole in Qui-Gon's head with his eyes. He had an equal amount of venom in his gaze for the tiny datachip in Qui-Gon's hand.  
"I'm sure the Doctor might like to see the recording," continued Qui-Gon casually. "Just so that she has a more accurate understanding of everybody's injuries."  
"There is... no reason...," spluttered Tylip.

Tylip took a deep breath and tightened his jaw.  
"Clearly there is no reason to act in haste," said Tylip, holding his palms out in placation. "Perhaps we should discuss the exact chain of events."  
"I think that would be a wise idea," said Qui-Gon. "Shall we step into the doctor's office to discuss it?"  
"Of course," said Tylip. "I am a reasonable man."  
"Glad to hear it," said Qui-Gon. "After you, Investigator."

 Tylip's tongue flickered but he shuffled into the office, Qui-Gon following with more grace. Qui-Gon exchanged a glance with Poppi who pulled the doctor aside for a quiet chat. Ben tried to move towards the doctor's office but the Armistice's security guards barred his way. Qui-Gon waved for him to stay put and Ben subsided grudgingly. Emalda hooked her arm through Ben's, leaning close to him. Ben relaxed back against her. Qui-Gon let the door close between him and Ben.

The doctor's office was small, most of the most of the space taken up by the desk and its in-built consoles. Several holographic images of the doctor and her family covered one of the walls in the shape of a star. Two potted plants took up a corner, next to a bank of monitoring screens flashing images of the medical bay and the people outside. Tylip installed himself in the only chair, folding his arms and scowling at Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon was quite comfortable standing.

"Well, Investigator," said Qui-Gon. "I believe we have things to discuss."  
"Like your involvement in the smuggling ring?"  
"I was going to suggest we discuss your attempt to murder me and my companions but we can discuss the smuggling ring if you prefer. A member of our party purchased a dancing costume..."  
Tylip grimaced in disgust but didn't interrupt.  
"... and the smugglers avoided one of your raids by hiding at least some of their loot in her purchase. I believe I can get her to testify to the involvement of two smugglers, Chara Polli and Spaceport Security Officer Crose. She may be able to implicate a twilek bartender. You might have been too distracted to hear that Chara Polli is already in custody, as is the wreckage of the droid used to carry out the thefts."

Tylip thumped his hands on the desk and leaned forward menacingly.  
"Are you aware that anything you admit to me is admissable in a Wefhuk court of law?" sneered Tylip. "It can be used as a confession."  
"I am," said Qui-Gon. "Are you aware of the consequences of attempted murder? You have correctly suspected that we are working for the New Republic Senate, though none of our activities are illegal in any way. We will pretend that this was all just a misunderstanding and, in return, you will not press charges against Emalda Colash for the purchase of dancing supplies. Emalda _will_ testify and we will do all we can to assist you in putting these smugglers behind bars."  
Tylip dropped back to sit in the chair. He contemplated Qui-Gon for a moment and looked at the screen showing Ben and Emalda surrounded by guards.  
"Agreed, you smug bantha," said Tylip. "But the filthy dancing costume is confiscated as evidence!"  
"That's fair."


	33. Anakin

Anakin watched from the yard as Obi-Wan scaled the wall of Hija Gan's small little house without hesitation. Obi-Wan caught the edge of the gutter with his hands and flipped onto the roof. Ranun fidgeted beside Anakin.  
"Calm down," said Anakin absently, his focus on watching Obi-Wan disappearing down a ventilation shaft.  
"This is _illegal_ ," hissed Ranun, flapping his hands.  
"You're a member of the security forces," said Anakin calmly. "You have the authority to be here."  
"Yes but I don't have any kind of warrant to enter a house!"  
Anakin snorted loudly at that and Ranun looked around frantically as if expecting to be accosted by Tylip himself at any moment.  
"In the Old Republic, the Jedi had the authority to pursue investigations wherever they had to," said Anakin grandly.  
"That's... disturbing," said Ranun, freezing mid-flap to contemplate that kind of freedom.

It was at that point that the front door of the house slid open and Obi-Wan filled the doorway.  
"It doesn't look like anybody has lived here in a long time," said Obi-Wan. "The house is empty and the plumbing isn't connected."  
Anakin moved past Obi-Wan to look for himself. The front room was bare stone covered in a thick layer of dust, disturbed only by Obi-Wan's footprints.  
"A temporary set-back," said Anakin confidently. "We'll find her."  
"Do we have any more addresses for her on file?" asked Obi-Wan.

They both paused and turned around when the question wasn't answered. Ranun hadn't followed them inside, still standing out in the front yard.  
"Do we have any other addresses for her?" repeated Obi-Wan.  
"Why did you mention the Jedi?" asked Ranun, frowning and thinking hard.  
"Focus, Ranun," said Anakin. "Any other addresses?"  
Ranun was looking at the two of them suspiciously but he obediently pulled out his datapad and tapped a few keys.

"Nothing official," said Ranun.  
"Any ideas?" asked Obi-Wan.  
"There's nothing in the file," said Ranun.  
"Not what I asked," said Obi-Wan. "Have another look, Junior Investigator Ranun."  
Ranun tapped at a few more keys and scrolled some more.  
"Well... for a while she was getting her messages forwarded," said Ranun. "To a steam factory she used to work at. If it's the one I'm thinking of, it's been closed for a few years."  
Anakin and Obi-Wan exchanged looks.  
"How far away is this factory?" asked Anakin thoughtfully.

Less than ten minutes later, Anakin and Obi-Wan were moving smoothly in through the store-front with their unlit lightsabers in their hands. Ranun edged in after them with a blaster in his hand, eyeing their lightsabers suspiciously. Lights from the street filtered weakly through the dusty windows and bathed the empty shelves in shadows. Small kernels crunched under their feet and Anakin tried not to focus on the fact that they were probably old droppings. There was a nest of cardboard boxes in the corner and something rodent-like scurried away on many little legs. However, there was a clear path in the dust where several people had been travelling back and forth. The trail led to a door at the back of the room, labelled 'Factory Floor'.

Anakin moved to the door but stopped at a light touch on his arm. He looked to Obi-Wan, who pointed at the rear shelf where a small light flashed. Their entrance had triggered some form of silent alarm and they would be expected. Anakin nodded in understanding. Then he slid through the door, scanning his surroundings even as he was moving aside to give Obi-Wan room to follow. A low mechanical hum vibrated the floor beneath their feet although Anakin couldn't immediately identify its source. The light was too bright for street lighting and had to be light from the planet's two moons, shining through long narrow windows that lined the walls. They reflected off a factory floor lined with pressurised tanks. The tanks were each about the size of Hija Gan's small house but narrowed to a pipe that channeled the steam upward to a network of pipes on the ceiling and out of the room. A raised walkway ran parallel to the ceiling pipes, following the wall for half the length of the room.

A noise sounded from up ahead and Anakin bounded towards it, weaving in and out of the gas tanks. Each tank towered above him but the space between them was designed to be accessible to mechanics and engineers. He could hear Ranun following, slow and clumsy. Behind, he was dimly aware of Obi-Wan shouting a warning. There was a hissing sound and Anakin leapt backwards just as the tank in front of him vented scalding steam. Anakin pulled back, bumping into Ranun and forcing the Investigator back out of harm's way. All around them, the tanks activated with a deafening roar. Anakin's lightsaber sprang to life as he and Ranun found themselves back to back in a small square of floor wedged between four tanks. Anakin kept it angled high over their heads and out of contact with the steam.  
"What are you HOLDING?" squeaked Ranun.  
"I need to concentrate right now, Ranun."

The steam obscured the way they'd come but Anakin could hear Obi-Wan moving and activating his own lightsaber. Between the water vapour and sweat from the heat, Anakin's outer tunic was quickly saturated. He could feel Ranun nervously shifting from foot to foot behind him. Anakin looked upwards to the walkway and the tangle of pipes. It was the only direction they could move that wasn't blocked by either steam or tank. Anakin had to shout to be heard above the roar of steam.  
"Ranun, stay here," said Anakin. "I'll be back shortly."  
Anakin crouched and launched himself towards the ceiling. His feet had barely left the ground when he felt the warning in the Force. He twisted awkwardly in mid-air, bringing his lightsaber down to deflect the blaster bolt aimed at Ranun. He landed hard on his left ankle, barely maintaining his balance.  
"Get behind me!" shouted Anakin.  
Ranun shuffled behind the scant protection Anakin afforded.

A second and third blaster bolt burst out of the steam towards them. Anakin deflected them easily, the end of his lightsaber hissing as it flashed through the steam. He couldn't see much of the room but he could easily hear where Obi-Wan must be. Obi-Wan's lightsaber hummed, rising in pitch as it swung fast and whining sharply as it deflected a blaster bolt. Two more blaster bolts pinged out of the darkness towards Anakin and again he deflected them. Anakin's eyes flickered upwards towards movement on the walkway above.  
"Not good...," muttered Anakin, probably too quiet for Ranun to hear.  
Ranun followed Anakin's gaze and held his blaster tightly in his hand.

A twilek woman stood above them, leaning on a cane with one arm and drawing her other arm back to launch a grenade. A stun grenade could leave them to stumble blind and deaf into the deadly obstacles around them. Anakin pushed sharply with the Force and the grenade jerked out of the woman's hand and fell to her feet. Anakin averted his eyes from the grenade's bright detonation and look back in time to see the Twilek staggering blindly on the walkway. She hit the railing and flipped backwards over it, falling from the ceiling towards the steam below. She screamed as she disappeared from Anakin's sight.

Ranun slumped against Anakin's back and Anakin could feel the young human trembling. Anakin reached a hand back to pat Ranun on the shoulder while keeping his lightsaber extended with the other. A rattling sound vibrated through the floor and the steam vents shut off, one by one. As the last one hissed away, Anakin could see Crose and Obi-Wan standing across the room at a control panel. Crose's bulk was huddled on the floor, watching resentfully as Obi-Wan's lightsaber remained aimed at his face.

Anakin led Ranun across the room, avoiding the motionless body of the twilek. Obi-Wan appeared unharmed and his tunics were dry.  
"You alright?" asked Anakin, looking Obi-Wan up and down.  
" _Me?_ " asked Obi-Wan, raising an incredulous eyebrow.  
Anakin looked down at his soaked clothing and thought briefly about conceeding the point.  
"It's just a question, Obi," said Anakin. "No need to get excited."  
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and sighed deeply as if letting it go was an effort.  
"Investigator Ranun," said Obi-Wan. "Would you like to take charge of the prisoner?"  
Ranun moved forward eagerly, pulling cuffs from his belt.  
"Arresting a jewel smuggler," muttered Ranun gleefully. "It's about time."

"So, missed out on all the action this time, huh?" said Obi-Wan mildly, returning his lightsaber to his belt.  
Anakin deactivated his lightsaber and gestured with it.  
"You know, I just don't want you to feel left out," said Anakin. "It's for your own good."  
"Really?" said Obi-Wan.  
"Well..."  
Anakin pivoted, igniting his lightsaber to deflect the bolt that Crose had just fired at Obi-Wan's unprotected back. Ranun tackled the cuffed Crose to the ground and wrestled the concealed weapon away from him. Obi-Wan, who hadn't had a chance to draw his own weapon, looked wide-eyed at Anakin.  
"Huh," said Obi-Wan. "I'd better keep you around."  
"You wouldn't know what to do without me," agreed Anakin.


	34. Epilogue: Qui-Gon

Qui-Gon breathed in the fresh air of Wefhuk. It was all done. Their mission for the New Republic officially concluded and the whereabouts of Dr Rivea Colash officially declared unknown. For the first time in a long time - possibly for the first time in his life - Qui-Gon was a free agent, answerable to no Senate or Jedi Council. They could go where they wanted and do what they wished. The prospect of spending months, or even years, on a fertile planet like Wefhuk relaxed muscles Qui-Gon hadn't even realised were tense. He was pleased to see that it was having a similar effect on Ben. Ben's shoulders were loose and his step was light. The two of them strolled side by side down a road of compacted stones in Cahbun City's outer suburbs, heading for one of the many agricultural centres.

"It will be good to be on-planet for a while," said Qui-Gon.  
Ben nodded, the edges of his eyes wrinkling into a smile.  
"I know the two planets are very different," said Ben. "But Wefhuk reminds me of Ragoon 6."  
"I see what you mean," agreed Qui-Gon. "Though the local wildlife we've seen so far seems less likely to eat us."  
Ben grinned, "Oh, I don't know. I think Tylip would if he could."  
Qui-Gon laughed and it felt good rumbling through his chest.

"I'd expected to have more trouble from him," said Qui-Gon. "But with Ranun, the Investigative Service's new hero speaking in our favour..."  
"Ranun certainly seems quite taken with the Padawans," agreed Ben. "I hope it doesn't go to their heads."  
"Hmm," agreed Qui-Gon, sobering slightly. "I admit you have done a lot with Anakin. You're a good Master to him."  
Ben stopped in his tracks, slowly turning red and stuttering. Qui-Gon stopped and frowned. What had he said?  
"I thought...," tried Ben. "It sounded... I was under the impression, that you were unhappy with Anakin's training. That you thought it could have been done better."  
For a moment, all Qui-Gon could see was Obi-Wan at thirteen; lanky, awkward and crest-fallen when Qui-Gon initially refused to take him as a student. Qui-Gon found he had to cough to clear his throat.  
"If Anakin still has progress to make," said Qui-Gon gruffly, unable to maintain eye contact. "I never meant it as a criticism of you as a teacher. And... nothing I say of Emalda is intended as a criticism, either. It's _them_ I worry about - not you."  
Qui-Gon chanced a look at Ben's face and it reminded him of Obi-Wan's bright joy when Qui-Gon finally took him as a student.  
"Thank you," said Ben, simple but genuine.

Ben couldn't seem to stop smiling.  
"Well, shall we obtain ourselves some respectable employment?" asked Ben brightly, turning from the road into the main driveway of an agricultural centre.  
"By all means," said Qui-Gon, pleased and wearing a similar smile.  
The door to the agricultural centre opened before they reached it. A woman in blue stood there, leaning against the open door and watcing them approach. Her gaze was evaluating and calculating. She was medium height with thick sandy hair that had been braided into a dozen little top-knots across the back of her head. They almost stood face to face before Qui-Gon realised that her eyes weren't human - they had the vertical irises of the Ekash. Beside him, Ben slowed as he noticed as well. Qui-Gon and Ben exchanged slightly disbelieving looks, hardly daring to believe what their eyes were telling them.  
"Forgive me," said Qui-Gon. "But are you Dr Rivea Colash? Mother of Emalda Colash?"  
The woman hunched her shoulders and narrowed her eyes at them.  
"Depends on who's doing the asking, grandpa."  
"Do you have a moment? I think you'll find we have quite the tale to tell..."

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone finds this story familiar, that's because I wrote a story with similar characters ten years ago. Hopefully this stands on its own!


End file.
